Smother Me
by Eriks leadinglady
Summary: Draco makes a different choice during book 7. Now, with the Wizards revealed to the Muggles under dangerous circumstances, can two people come together to make a better and safe future for everyone? DracoxHermione
1. Prologue

_**Smother Me **_

_By Eriksleadinglady_

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_**Disclaimer**__: I own nothing. Seriously. I live in a box and typed this on a rock. JK Rowling owns the entire HP universe. _

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**Prologue**

The rain pounded heavily on the tin roof. The drops falling from the roof's over-hangings created a waterfall encompassing the tiny shack, relaying the anger that was felt inside. The man crouching in the corner wondered how it had gotten this far, how it had reached this point. Just how did he become this rotting-away shell of a person, hiding away in the middle of nowhere? It wasn't like he had wanted this to happen, but there were just some things that couldn't be prevented. He was sure it was just the person he was and the person she was. Neither of them were meant to be together, and he had known that - _he had known_ - and yet gone against his better judgment. He was just bloody stupid. And now, now because of his foolish behavior, all that he cared about was gone. Even caring was a big step for him and look how that had turned out. If one never cared, then he or she never had to get hurt. He had taken a chance, and sure enough, as if on cue, caring had turned out to be the biggest mistake of his life.

"_Just stay by my side."_

"_I can't. You know I can't."_

"_Yes, you can… you once said you loved me."_

"_It was a lie."_

"_You should know I can tell when you're lying."_

"_Please, don't make me hurt you."_

"_You should've thought of that before."_

Then all she did was cry. That's all that ever came from caring: tears. And now the heavens cried - cried for love had, then lost. Cried for feelings hurt and people lost. But most of all it cried for Draco Malfoy.

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_**A/N**__: Please let me know what you think! And thanks to Ziggygurl for helping me out! And of course Shady-777! We're both learning our lessons with this story, eh? ; ) _

_**A/N 2**__: And my chapters are longer than this, promise! No worries._


	2. Some Party

_**Smother Me **_

_By Eriksleadinglady_

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_**Disclaimer**__: The usual: JK Rowling supreme owner. Me lowly peasant. _

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**Chapter 1: Some Party…**

The smile on his face was forced. He did not think that the wizards surrounding him were in the least bit funny, but for the sake of pleasance he gave a smile. After all, he was at the one year anniversary of the demise of Voldemort, and he did not want to show just how ridiculous he felt being here.

Originally, he was not going to come at all, but his mother had convinced him that it would not be right for him to decline the invitation. Grudgingly, he had obeyed his mother's wishes. He would have felt better if maybe she was there with him, but she had squashed that idea the moment it had left his mouth.

"Now, Draco," she had replied. "Do you really think it wise for me, the wife of a former Death Eater, to show up at that party, uninvited?"

He had scoffed then; after all, his family fought for the good side in the end, but people still had wary feelings about the whole thing. He realized now that his mother would have felt even more out of place than he did. And he felt very, very, _very_ out of place.

But of course, Potter just had to go and invite him. Typical, nice guy, bloody Potter.

He was not really listening, but all the other people surrounding him began laughing, so he figured the Minister must have told another joke. Draco chuckled softly, just to appease them.

"What's so funny?" an entering voice asked playfully. "It made Draco Malfoy laugh, so it must have been pretty good."

It was Hermione Granger. Draco hadn't seen her in the year since the war ended: after all, they weren't friends. Their only way of communication was the fact that they both fought in the war together - nothing out of the ordinary and something quite expected - but since he had saved her life, which had cost him a high price, he figured their relationship was more connected than others might have been.

In response to her interjection, the Minister responded jovially, "Oh, I was just retelling the events of my wife's birthday party last July."

"Oh?" asked Hermione, trying to sound interested and hide her laughter.

"Yes, it was her fiftieth, and I thought," he paused to laugh, "I thought it would be quite the prank to pretend as though she were turning twenty-one instead!"

He stopped, making it blaringly obvious that that was supposed funny, causing everyone to break out into fits of laughter.

"That's not even the best part!" cried the Minister, as he went on to detail the events of that night.

Draco glanced at Hermione. She was smiling radiantly, but it was apparent to him that even she thought the Minister to be ridiculous beyond belief and not worth laughing over in the slightest. But she kindly obliged to him anyway - just like Draco - and laughed her heart out at the right moments.

Truth be told, Draco thought she looked astounding. She wore a strapless midnight-blue evening gown that cascaded down her body like a waterfall. Over the top, forming at the middle of the bodice was a hitching of fabric that, as it traveled down her body, lost its form and flowed together with the rest of the dress.

To say the least, it looked expensive as hell.

Or that was just the way in which Draco viewed other people's attire — in accordance to how much they spent on it.

Not to take away from the fact that she still looked fabulous in the gown.

Then her image became unbearable, for she had chosen the worst possible accessory: Ronald Weasley.

He entered the group carrying drinks and passed one to Hermione.

"Thank you, Ron," she said appreciatively as she sipped the champagne.

"My pleasure."

Draco scowled. Even though he had fought next to Weasley on more than one occasion, Draco still hated the little Weasel's guts; he was even worse than Potter.

Ron glanced uneasily at Draco, returning the same frown that he was being given, just without as much flare as Draco's had. After all, only a Malfoy could pull off the infamous Malfoy-glare.

Paying heed to the look, Draco offered, "Weasley." Politeness.

"Malfoy." Contempt.

Draco just shrugged. He didn't know why Weasley still hated him. Perhaps it was because Draco was still more powerful, smarter, and overall better looking than Weasley. That made perfect sense to Draco, at least.

Even Hermione noted the tone in Ron's voice and she gave him a discrete nudge in the shoulder.

"Ow! What was that for?" he asked, rubbing his arm.

Hermione only widened her eyes and looked at him, nodding her head only a little in Draco's direction.

Ron, however, failed to take the hint. "I don't care how many times you try to convince me otherwise, Hermione, but Malfoy is still a bloody git! I don't care how much he has done in the war, or how much he has done for you. He is still an evil little cockroach whom I don't have any respect for!"

After the outburst, the entire group they were in had gone silent, more than one had excused themselves, and Hermione's face was completely red from embarrassment.

The scowl on Draco's face during the speech had slowly turned into a smirk. Deliberately, he began to clap his hands softly.

"Bravo, Weasley," he said nonchalantly. "Now tell me, was that in the least bit coerced? Or did you just come up with all those fine reasons for hating me on the spot? If the latter, I commend you - your wit has certainly increased since the last time we met." No one could deny the sarcasm simply dripping off every word he drawled.

Ron's ears reddened. "For your information, _Malfoy_," he spat the name as if it were bile, "I can guarantee than not one of the people in this room wants you to be here, let alone ever see your face again!"

The last words came out louder than anticipated, and many of the other minglers at the party were now staring at Draco and Ron.

Draco, for his response, glared ice at Ron, but said nothing. He knew this was becoming a scene, and he hated how everyone in the room was staring at him. Now, more than ever, he felt completely out of place. He didn't belong here, he never should have come, he should have left this place long ago, he -

"I beg to differ," came a voice from beside him.

Ron's eyes widened as he looked at his date. "Hermione?"

"You, Ronald Weasley, need to apologize to Draco," she said sternly. "Now."

"But, but," he stammered like a lost puppy.

"You know, just as I do, what Draco has done for this war. And if it weren't for him, I would be dead right now. Not here with you, but dead, Ron. You should be thanking him." She glanced around, and noticed that everyone had their eyes fixed on her. "Everyone in this room should be thanking him."

It was silent, and then Harry Potter made his entrance. At first, he came out smiling, then, noticing the silence in the room and some of the deadly glares, he looked around worriedly.

"Isn't this supposed to be a party? Why is everyone looking so glum?"

His eyes found Ron and Hermione. "Ron? Why do you look like you're about to puke slugs again? And Hermione…" At her glare, he stopped mid-sentence. "Ah, never mind. And why is everyone staring at…" _Draco_.

He pursed his lips. Ah. Of course. His guest of honor.

Harry cleared his throat. "As you all know, this is a celebration of the end of the war, and the death of Voldemort. This is not the place for childhood rivalries to surface themselves, and I would feel dishonored if they were allowed to. Now, please, everyone. Have a good time?" He finished with a tiny smile.

Only because Harry requested it did everyone resume their own conversations, forgetting all about Ron, Hermione, and Draco's argument. Once things had settled down, Hermione, still thinking, her brows furrowed together in deep disappointment, rushed out of the party.

On her way out, Ron tried grabbing hold of her arm, but she only shook him off.

Draco watched her go, mesmerized by the fact that she had stood up for him - reprimanded her date for someone who wasn't even her friend. It flummoxed him, and he didn't know what to do.

For a brief moment, he flicked his eyes over to Ron, who was glaring at him, still, before he turned and left the room, no doubt to go and try to find his date.

Draco wondered if he would see either of them again tonight: he figured he wouldn't.

Sighing, he turned and looked about the room. There was no one here whom he would even consider conversing with. Only Potter, of course, but only briefly. And he would have, too, if Potter were not surrounded by a million guests.

In the middle of it all, Harry did catch Draco's eyes for a moment, but the ex-spy shrugged his shoulders and left the room. No one saw Draco again for the rest of the night, and no one probably minded.

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"Ron! I cannot believe you!" cried Hermione once she was back at the Burrow. Immediately after leaving the party, she had disapparated, and of course, Ron followed her back home, too.

"Oh, like you really expected me to be nice to that prat," he argued as he closed the door after them.

Her fury did not dissipate. "You could have at least been halfway decent!"

She threw her clutch purse down in her room. Ron followed and stood in the doorway. "But it's Malfoy, Hermione."

She wheeled herself around to face him. "This isn't Hogwarts, Ronald! He helped us during the war, and I owe him my life!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "How many times can you mention that in one night?"

"Until you get the message through your thick skull!"

He sighed at last. "I know he saved your life, Hermione. Believe me, I do." She was about to speak, but he held up his hand to stop her. "I do know that the only reason you are here right now is because of him." He glanced sideways. "But you didn't notice the looks he was giving you."

Hermione was admonished. Looks? What looks?

She voiced her concern.

Ron ran a shaky hand through his hair. "He was looking at you like he actually _cared._ Like he didn't think you were filthy and like he held some special connection to you. I don't know. It was right barmy."

Hermione relaxed her shoulders as she looked at Ron. Their relationship over the last year had been shaky, at best, but it was moments like this that she realized just how much they both cared for one another. She walked over to him and embraced him.

"You needn't be jealous of Malfoy, Ron. Especially in relation to me."

He pulled away from her. "But you were looking at him in the same way!"

"Was not!"

He pointed a finger at her, half playing and half accusing. "Were too! It's like… It's like you have feelings for him or something, and he you!"

Now Hermione just had to laugh. "Right okay, Ron. Now I know you've completely lost it. You should go to bed, and maybe sleep away these nonsensical worries of yours. Believe me. When the time comes that I have feelings for Draco Malfoy, it will be the day that I should be admitted to a psychiatric ward." She looked hard at him. "And please, don't hesitate to admit me."

Even Ron had to smile at that. Maybe he was just imagining things. Maybe.

_**A/N**__: Here's a quick update. However, I will probably start doing them just once every week. I wanted to get this story going though. : )_

_Much evil love,_

_E. Ll_


	3. Unwanted Invitation

_**Smother Me **_

_By Eriksleadinglady_

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_**Disclaimer**__: If I owned this, my name would be JK Rowling. And it isn't. Der. _

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**Chapter 2: Unwanted Invitation**

Draco plopped lazily on his couch, glancing around him at the white walls trimmed with gold. The paintings on the walls were exquisite; the plants situated variously throughout the house - charming; the statues in the garden and in the foreway were nothing less than divine. However, no matter how enthralling the mansion was and the things in it, Draco couldn't help but hate it.

Perhaps it was because it was so large, that with only two people living in it, it seemed empty. Each morning, when he awoke in his bed, he looked up at the ceiling and saw white. Just plain, simple, not at all elegant _white_.

Every day the manor seemed so empty, the house so quiet, but he still stayed. Mainly it was because his mother refused to leave; the house held too many "happy" memories to just up and leave. To Draco, however, there were no happy memories, just haunting shadows.

Around every corner, he expected to see Death Eaters parading around, using his house as a base. Even though he knew that they were all in Azkaban - or dead - the memories just couldn't escape him.

It was after that night, the night that Snape had killed Dumbledore, and he, Draco, had failed, that his family started to work for the other side. Perhaps it was because their prejudice didn't seem enough to fight for anymore. Too many people were getting hurt, and the Dark Lord only wanted power; purebloods would not reign supreme, like he said, but He would reign supreme.

It was dangerous for them to be on both sides, but with some well-trained legilimency, it was possible. When they found out that Snape, too, was working for both sides, they were shocked - he was in the inner circle and the Dark Lord appeared to honestly trust him. They knew that they were all in the gravest danger, but in order to make up for their past mistakes, they felt it was only right.

Unfortunately, of the four spies only Draco and Narcissa survived. It was a peculiar feeling seeing someone you loved dead on the battlefield, someone you knew was good and had loved just like everyone else, but had given his or her own life for a cause. It was hard to say who had been more upset: himself or his mother. Over time, he was sure it was his mother. She still sometimes spoke of him as if he were alive, but then she caught herself and this strange look would come into her eyes.

Lucius, although he had put him through so much pain - had caused so much pain - he realized his mistakes in the end. It must have been when Draco became a Death Eater that everything changed. After all, Draco was terrified of what was happening around him and the atmosphere he was in. Lucius must have loved his son and his family more than the Dark Lord, and Draco was sure that he wasn't all evil.

Draco sighed, deciding that he had wasted enough thoughts on his father for one day. He desperately wanted to get out of the old manor and go do something. He wandered up the stairs and found himself in his mother's room.

"Yes, Draco, dear?" she asked upon seeing him. She was reclining in bed, reading a novel about… wait. Was that a muggle novel?

Draco furrowed his brow, but shrugged it off. His mother had been acting different lately...

"Would you like to go out, Mother?" he asked plainly.

"Well, I do need some new dress-robes."

After noticing the jeans and t-shirt he was wearing, she added pointedly, "And you could use some new ones yourself."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I will, of course, change before we go. No need to go all motherly on me."

"But that is what I do best, you know." Her eyes twinkled radiantly.

He nodded his head toward the door. "Let's just go before I change my mind."

Putting her book down, she rose from her seat and followed him downstairs. After changing into more proper attire, Draco apparated them to Diagon Alley where they went into _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_.

Immediately, the squat owner of the shop greeted them. She greeted them so fervently that Draco knew she did not get such VIP guests often.

"Welcome, welcome! I did not expect to see the Malfoys in today! What brings you here, hmm? New robes for you, Narcissa? Or Draco, perhaps?" the witch asked excitedly.

Narcissa offered a beautiful smile. "Both, actually."

Madam Malkin's eyes widened. "Oh my! Should I grab some examples? Did you have anything in mind, like self-ironing, beautifying, slimming, fattening, lengthening, or temperature-adjusting?"

"Just the best that you have," offered Draco, annoyed with the woman's impertinence.

That immediately sent her on her way, leaving the two Malfoys free to look around the shop.

Draco wandered around the shop, eyeing all the many colored robe sets the shop had to offer. There was every color under the rainbow and more. There were pastels, patterned, and layered robe ideas, too. Although the colors were something to behold, he found it all to be boring - dresses, shopping, and such just were not his things. He let his mind wander like his body did, until, after rounding a corner, he ran straight into Hermione and Ginny.

"Excuse me," he offered, biting his tongue from saying '_Watch it Granger_' like it wanted to.

Ginny's eyes widened. "Is that Draco Malfoy actually being polite? Or am I imagining things?"

Draco smirked. "Oh, no. Luckily enough for you, I exist in your real world and not just in your fantasies."

Ginny immediately reddened, but still responded snarkily "Yes, sadly enough that is true. But that still does not stop me from having _fantasies_ about your death."

Hermione put a hand up to her mouth to hide her laughter.

Draco stared at her. "Find something amusing, Granger?"

She only shook her head, still trying to hide her laughter, but failing miserably. He flicked his eyes between the two women, trying to decide whom to insult first, but before he could say anything, his mother walked up behind him.

"Are these some friends of yours, Draco, dear?" she asked, smiling brightly at the two beautiful, young women.

Draco was about to respond with a firm '_No'_ when Hermione piped, "Oh yes, Mrs. Malfoy. We are some of Draco's _closes_t friends. I am Hermione Granger and this is Ginny Weasley."

She then offered her hand, which Narcissa shook fervently. "I believe Draco has mentioned your name once or twice, Hermione. And Ginny, you must be the youngest of the Weasleys?"

"Yes," was Ginny's only response.

"And Hermione, you are the same year as Draco, correct?"

"Yes, sadly I had the misfortune of going to Hogwarts with him," she offered playfully.

"Surely he wasn't so bad?" hoped Narcissa.

Hermione flicked her eyes over to Draco, trying to gauge his reaction, and not to her surprise, she found him scowling at her. She smiled brightly. "Oh, not at all! He only jabbered me and my friends constantly, gloating above us all."

How she managed to say that with a smile and make it sound completely without contempt, Draco never knew. Even his mother laughed, after some girl just openly insulted her son.

"Mother, let's -" he started, but was then cut off by said woman.

"Are you ladies buying new robes?"

They both nodded, holding up pieces of clothing that were in their arms. Hermione's robes were a dark maroon that cinched at the waist flatteringly, while Ginny's were a sky blue with a shorter length for the summer season.

Narcissa ohed and ahed at the items. "These are just beautiful! I hope Malkin will find something just as wonderful for me!"

"I am sure anything she grabs will simply look marvelous on you," said Hermione. Draco's stomach looped a couple of uneasy circles. Hermione was flattering his mother and succeeding, at that.

Narcissa blushed. Just then, an idea popped into her head and her eyes shined. "Why don't you pay for their gowns, Draco?" she quipped, looking at him. "Perhaps the purchase could be made as a peace offering to make up for all of the bad times?"

Her eyes were so bright and hopeful that Draco simply could not refuse.

But Hermione and Ginny could.

"Oh no, please, don't bother, we can -"

"Nonsense," said Draco, his mouth dry. "Allow me."

Both women were taken aback, their mouths nearly dropping to the floor. Narcissa only clapped her hands in glee as she took the robes from the girls and plopped them on Draco, who took them up to the counter to remain there while his mother shopped.

Then Malkin came back with five different sets of robes for Narcissa and one pair of the usual robes for Draco that he always bought: a silky black cape with a green undershirt and black trousers. All made from the best materials, of course.

Narcissa gladly took the items from the squat witch and went to go try them on. The first ones she came out in were a bright orange, which Draco crinkled his nose at. "Definitely not."

"Oh surely the colors aren't so bad?" she asked, observing herself in the mirror.

No one said a word.

"It makes you look like an orange slice," said Draco plainly.

Hermione jabbed him in the gut.

"I do suppose you're right, Draco," sighed Narcissa. Then she went to try on a different set.

"Can't you tell she really liked those?" whispered Hermione sharply.

Draco was about to respond when Narcissa came back out in a baby-pink, just below the knees, set of robes. Draco thought she looked absolutely amazing and had not seen her shine so brightly in such a long time.

"Well, what do you think?" she asked, giving a little twirl.

"You look absolutely radiant!" offered Hermione first.

"Spot on!" seconded Ginny.

"Draco?" asked Narcissa, hoping in her eyes that he, too, liked the robes.

"Yes," he replied shortly.

His mother turned to Madam Malkin and cried, "These are the ones!"

After she was done changing again, the group went up to the counter and Draco, rather grudgingly, paid for all four sets of robes. Of course, it wasn't a dent in his wallet or anything. He just hated buying robes for Weasley and Granger. Now _that_ was just a waste of money.

Just as they left the shop and were about to split ways, Narcissa said, "Would you two 

like to join us for dinner some time at the Manor?"

_No. Please say no._

Hermione and Ginny looked at each other. "Oh no, Mrs. Malfoy, we wouldn't want to impose."

"Oh it would be no imposition at all! We would be glad to have you! It would be a nice change of pace."

Once again, the two girls exchanged glances.

"You can bring dates?" hoped Narcissa.

More hesitation, but then finally, "Oh, all right. You've convinced us."

Narcissa smiled. "Tomorrow night at seven, then?"

"Sounds perfect."

At last, they finally went their separate ways, and Draco dreaded tomorrow evening. After all, after his last outburst with Ron - who Hermione was sure to bring - he didn't know how well it would go over. But, if it would please his mother, he supposed that he could try - _try_ - to be pleasant for one evening. But just one.

_**A/N**__: Next time: the dinner! Dun dun dun…._


	4. Dinner

_**Smother Me **_

_By Eriksleadinglady_

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**Chapter 3: Dinner**

It was a quarter-to-Seven, and Draco was antsy for the guests to arrive. Having people over for dinner - former Gryffindors specifically - obscured his quotidian routine. For dinner, it was usually just his mother and him, maybe an occasional visitor like Pansy Parkinson, but that was it, and that was exactly how Draco liked it. Now, seeing the long, rectangular, cherry wooden table set for not two, but six people, made Draco uneasy.

His mother, on the other hand, was blithe and without a care in the world. She was more than excited to have new guests over for dinner, even having the cooks make a fancy French meal - Truffles as appetizers, Duck Fricassée with white beans as the meal, and Apple Tart with Fleur de Sel for dessert.

As always, it sounded delicious to Draco, but he wasn't sure how the _others_ would pertain to such a fancy meal. After all, they lived at the Burrow, and he was sure all they ate was soup, bread, and cheese; he had convinced himself that it was all they were able to afford with so many mouths to feed.

Suddenly, knocks sounded from the door, and Draco's heart seemed to stop in his chest.

He heard himself rise to his feet and walk proudly to the door, though it did not register to him what exactly he was about to get himself into.

Opening the door, he greeted his guests. "Potter. Weasley. Granger." He was expecting to have to greet one more Weasley, but was surprised to not see Ron standing there as well.

"Draco," said Harry, while the two women acknowledged him by nodding.

"Come in," Draco said, gesturing with his hand. Harry had used his first name and that was… interesting, to say the least. Different, but acceptable.

The three of them walked into the anteroom, not saying a word, but only remembering the memories of the last time there were here - Hermione being tortured, and Harry and Ron imprisoned. Still silent, they all followed Draco into the dining hall, where they greeted Narcissa, and then took their seats for dinner.

"So," began Narcissa, "I was under the impression that there would be one more of you joining us?" She looked at Hermione and then at the empty table setting.

Hermione pursed her lips. "He couldn't make it. Other… engagements for tonight."

Draco had to hold in a sardonic comment. Right, like Weasley had anything else to do; probably just too ashamed to show his face in Malfoy Manor.

"That is… too bad," he replied, not being too cynical.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but did not reply. She was sitting by herself, on one side of the table, with Harry and Ginny on the other side, and Draco and Narcissa filling in the two head spots.

The set up did not surprise her.

"This dining room is lovely, Narcissa," she said while taking a sip of her water; the food had not yet been served.

"Thank you, Hermione," she said pleasantly. "Although, this is really Draco's house now, so you must send all compliments toward him."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Oh really? I didn't know you inherited everything."

Draco swallowed thickly. "In case you couldn't notice, Granger, my father is not at the table with us, nor will he ever be again. It is my duty, as his son, to become the man of the house and take over all of his belongings."

Everyone noticed the caustic tone in his voice, and tension rose into the air.

Draco, leaning over in his chair, half slumped to the side from boredom, said airily, "Come, I grow tired of this drivel. Surely the food must be ready."

Half of the tension left the air, but everyone still felt something covering them all like a heavy blanket in the winter time.

"I-I didn't mean anything by what I said," offered Hermione, seeming to be unable to contain herself from being kind and appropriate in all situations.

Draco eyed her carefully. He hadn't, truthfully, minded what she had said - after all, his father's memory was, most of the time, suffice to him, but his mother longingly missed him. He could tell the subject was making her uncomfortable.

He waved his hand dismissively, just as the appetizers arrived. "It is of no matter."

Taking a small portion of his truffle, he placed it into his mouth with grace. Observing the others, he noticed that only his mother was eating as well.

Rolling his eyes, he muttered, "As expected." But no one heard. "It's a mushroom." Still no one moved. "It is a French delicacy and is quite good, I assure you."

Hermione eyed her plate warily, then, taking a very small piece, placed it into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

Draco eyed her with interest. She had been the first of the three to try it, and although it wasn't so much a brave move, he couldn't help but think of her in a higher light.

Soon after, both Harry and Ginny had tried their truffles and were now happily enjoying them.

Catching his mother's eye, he gave her a small smile, and she returned the look. If Potter and friends had not tried, or had not liked, the appetizers, there would have been hell to pay for making his mother feel even more uncomfortable that she was right now. But, seeing as how they were the guests in his house, they could only oblige, and things would have to move happily along.

Tired of the silence, Draco directed his attention to Harry. "So, Potter, when are you and the Weasley going to get hitched?"

Harry smiled and took Ginny's hand. "In a couple of months, actually. Hopefully September." A pause. "And don't worry, you'll get an invitation."

Draco scoffed. "Oh, yes, that was _exactly_ what I wanted to know."

"And Granger," he continued, "when are you and the other Weasley going to tie the knot?"

Hermione shifted her eyes around. "Well," she said carefully, "m-marriage hasn't really been of topic."

Draco raised his brows. "That's a shame. I thought for sure you all would want to get married at the same time; after all, you are 'the Golden Trio'." Noticing Ginny, he added, "Er, quartet."

"Actually," she said, looking down at her plate, "I don't think he and I will ever get married."

Draco nearly choked on his water but refrained. He had always thought she and Ron would get married - it just seemed so right. Obviously, they had liked each other all through school, but never publicly showed any interest in one another. Now that they were, surely, dating, he only thought it natural for them to get married.

"I'm surprised."

She shrugged her shoulders.

Then their meal arrived and her eyes seemed to glow at the opportunity to get away from the topic.

Everyone seemed to enjoy the main course, and conversation was little, if any. Hermione now seemed uncomfortable after the mention of marriage, which, in turn, rubbed off on Harry and Ginny.

Throughout the meal, however, Narcissa occasionally caught Draco's eyes and gave him a hard look. He figured it was because of his words earlier that made her give him the look, but he wasn't positive.

After the meal, dessert arrived, and Draco began looking around the table for something to say.

But he wasn't the person to speak.

"You know," said Hermione, "why did you have to go and mention marriage anyway?"

Draco's eyes widened, and he looked shiftily around the table, but no one said anything.

"We were having a nice pleasant time," she continued, staring at the wall opposite her, "and then you had to open your mouth and ruin everything! What Ron and I do is none of your concern!"

With that, she took a big bite of apple tart and chewed angrily.

Draco was speechless. She had lashed out at him so unexpectedly that he didn't know, for a moment, what to say.

Then his eyes narrowed at her. "I was only making conversation, Granger, because _you_ seem unable to do so! Anything that comes out of your mouth has to start an argument. There was no argument until you started it right now."

She swallowed tightly. "What? _Me_? You're the one who mentioned anything in the first place!"

"In order to have conversation so everyone would feel more comfortable."

"Well, I am certainly not more comfortable!" she cried indignantly.

"Obviously."

She yelled in frustration. "You are so impossible!"

"Just shut it and eat," said Draco harshly.

"Draco Regulus Malfoy!" Narcissa yelled. "That is no way to treat our guest!"

Hermione upturned her nose at him.

He rolled his eyes and mumbled something under his breath, while Harry and Ginny cast uneasy glances at each other.

Then his mother got up and left the table, claiming fatigue.

_**A/N:**__ Like it? Didn't like it? Please let me know what you think! Love, E. Ll_

_And of course, thanks to Shady-777 and Ziggygurl! You guys rock!_


	5. A Wedding

_**Smother Me **_

_By Eriksleadinglady_

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_**A/N**__: Thanks to my betas Shady777 and Ziggygurl!_

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**Chapter 4: A Wedding**

Four months passed and before anyone knew it, it was September. Draco had kept out of touch with everyone since that disastrous dinner. He knew that Harry and Ginny weren't angry with him, but he didn't really feel like contacting them because then he would be forced to be around Hermione - and that was a distasteful thought, at best. And it wasn't as though being around Potter and kin was exigent anyway. He would get around to speaking with him again: sometime.

But then, Draco learned that he would have to be around them all sooner than anticipated. On that Tuesday, a piece of mail came for him and his mother from _H. Potter at the Burrow_.

Draco's brow furrowed as he wondered what it could be.

Tearing open the letter, he learned it to be not a letter at all, but a wedding invitation.

He groaned. Because he knew he had to go. It was the fact that he would have to be around their entire Weasley clan - those remaining, at least - for an afternoon that disgusted him.

Offering his best scowl, he found Narcissa. "Mother, we have a wedding invitation."

She sprang away from the dishes she was cleaning magically. Draco still found it amusing that she insisted upon doing dishes herself, even though she had people to do that for her; she said it gave her something productive to do.

"Let me see," she said, scouring over the parchment. "Why… it's this Saturday! So soon!" Her eyes found his. "Isn't there usually more notice than this?"

"Maybe it got lost in the mail," shrugged Draco. "Or they were debating whether or not to invite us."

"Oh, of course they were going to invite us! You're all friends!"

He scoffed. "Yes, they are the best people in the world, and I would be lost without them."

"Don't be so acerbic," she reprimanded. "They are good people, Draco. And I know your father and I taught you the prejudices you hold, but we both need to move past those."

"Here, let me just put on a smile, and we can go on our jolly way." He did not smile.

Narcissa sighed. "Well, you have until Saturday to become more congenial."

He grumbled something unintelligible.

"Just think about it."

And think about it he did.

In the deepest corners of his mind, Draco knew he would go to the wedding; it was the least he could do to show his changed attitude. It was like the one year anniversary party: if he didn't go, but was invited, it portrayed distaste toward the people going. The idea of him not liking the Weasleys was very renowned, to say the least.

He knew the entire clan hated him because of the way he and his family had treated them.

Of course, they were not nice to him either.

Staring blankly at the wall, he decided to prepare a response note.

_Potter and future Mrs. Potter,_

_You will be pleased to know that my mother and I have accepted your invitation and have agreed to grace the Weasleys and other guests with our presence. We were, however, disappointed at the short notice._

_Congratulations at finally giving up your title of most eligible bachelor._

_D. Malfoy_

Draco smiled at the note. That should be sufficient, and he doubted that Potter expected anything less from the Slytherin Prince.

Xxx

Saturday came up quicker than anticipated. Before Draco knew it, he and Narcissa apparated to the Burrow and were ushered to their seats like the other guests. To be honest, it was not a big, extravagant wedding: mainly it was just Weasleys, particular Aurors that had helped Harry, and some Gryffindors — namely Neville, Seamus, and Dean.

It was humble, to say the least, a trait that Harry possessed unlike any other with his caliber of infamy.

Something that felt akin to respect swelled in Draco's chest, but he locked it away unseen, swallowing thickly.

He and his mother sat on the groom's side (although Draco was uncertain if the sides were, indeed, separated at all), next to Neville and his grandmother. The former Gryffindor kept glancing sideways and shooting glares at the Malfoys. However, Draco was holding in laughter at the looks, for Neville did not look evil, like he tried, but instead like a constipated tomato - his face bright red with those twitchy looks. It didn't help either that Grandmother Longbottom was dressed in a peculiar conglomeration of clothes. Her leopard handbag, black skirt, and centuries-old coat only heightened Draco's sense of bumptious nobility.

But the procession commenced and all hatred was put aside for the moment.

Lights were charmed to glitter and fly under the setting sun while lyrical music played in the background. They were seated outside the Burrow with the white walkway littered with speckled bits of glitter, and the gazebo lay ahead, also white with green vines and peeking, multi-colored flower buds adorning its outside and inside.

Underneath the sweeping streamers of yellow, pink, and white, entered the minister and the groom. Harry was in a black tux with a black tie and a white rose resting upon his chest. Ron and Hermione entered next - the Best Man and the Maid of Honor, respectively. Ron looked about the same as Harry, just without the rose and much less dashing. Hermione looked lovely, as usual - she stood out in a pastel yellow dress. It was simple, yet elegant as it clung to her in all the right places and flowed out at the bottom with tiny, almost unnoticeable ruffles. She smiled radiantly and tossed out small waves here and there to her friends. Next was the ring bearer, who was Bill and Fleur's little boy, Beau, and the flower girl followed, who was a cousin of the Weasleys named Madeline.

At long last, Mr. Weasley entered with the lovely bride on his arm. Ginny's smile was the widest of all, but no tears fell from her eyes like most women do upon their day. Instead, her white dress shone like none other as she glowed vividly.

Her eyes met Harry's upon the gazebo, and she grinned at him charmingly. Mrs. Weasley was sniffling loudly into her handkerchief, and Mr. Weasley couldn't help but at least have a small shine to his eyes, too. After all, this was his baby girl: the youngest of them all.

When Ginny got to Harry, their hands entwined and so the wedding vows began.

For Draco, personally, it was all too romantic and maudlin. Everywhere he turned, people were bawling into either a handkerchief or someone else's shoulder - like Grandmother Longbottom onto Neville. Hermione was crying as expected, as were the other bridesmaids. Hell, even his own mother was crying silent tears and sniffing every now and again.

He rolled his eyes and could only manage to look pensive, but not emotionally touched; after all, weddings were not poignant, least of all to him.

Then it was over and not soon enough for Draco. There were cheers of triumph as Ginny and Harry turned to face their guests, now man and wife.

After the guests rose from their seats, tables, food, and a dance floor all flew in, and the reception began.

Draco, with chin rested on hand, couldn't wait to get out of there, but his mother insisted upon staying. Over the course of the night, Hermione danced with Harry, Ron, Neville, Seamus, Dean, and even George. Ginny, too, just about danced with every guy there. Harry mainly stuck with his wife, but also went through some of the bridesmaids. Ron danced with Hermione on a good amount of dances - mainly the slow ones - and also found time for some bridesmaids. When he wasn't dancing with her or anyone, Ron either glared at the boy Hermione was dancing with, or at the Malfoys for being there. Draco thought he seriously needed to get over their days at Hogwarts.

Then something very surprising happened. After not having danced all night, none other than Ginny Weasley - er, _Potter_ - asked Draco to dance.

For a moment, all he could do was sit and stare at her incredulously.

"Potter told you to ask me, did he?" he said a little more harshly than intended.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Actually, no. I think I just momentarily lost my marbles and decided that you needed to dance."

He still eyed her warily, but then he gave in with a sigh as he stood up. While he offered her his hand, he said, "If I suddenly drop to the floor dead while we are dancing, I think you can blame your brother."

Ginny glanced over her shoulder and noted Ron shooting death glares at them. "Oh, he is just a jealous old git; I wouldn't pay him any mind."

Draco scowled as they began dancing. "I'm not."

"Don't think you can pretend to be so unfeeling with me," Ginny laughed. "I don't think you're quite as cold-hearted as people make you out to be."

"No?" he said, looking distractedly over her shoulder.

"Nah. You just want to be loved, just like everyone else. I think secretly, you are jealous of Harry."

He nearly froze where he was standing, but then remembered the music. "Me? Jealous of Potter? I can assure you there is no such thing. I am happy, I'll have you know."

She didn't say anything, and he couldn't see her, but he was sure her eyebrows rose. "Well, you don't smile nearly as ought as you should."

He leaned back and flashed a brilliant smile. "You're imagining things."

Then she laughed whole-heartedly, a pure, simple thing. "One of these days, Draco Malfoy, you will realize all the truth in my words."

He shrugged, but did not respond for just then someone tapped Ginny on the shoulder. They both stopped dancing and looked at Hermione.

"May I cut in?" she asked, looking at Ginny.

The bride smirked at Draco before nodding and prancing off to her husband.

Because Draco had not moved, Hermione grabbed his hands and commenced their dance.

"You look nice," mentioned Hermione.

"Uh, thanks," he said absentmindedly.

She sighed irritably. "I know none of us haven't seen you in a while..." - he could tell by the 'us' that she really meant 'I' - "...but I just wanted to tell you that, that, I'm sorry for getting angry with you."

There, she said it. He had wanted her to say it for so long, but he had not realized it until just now. Still, he refrained from showing his gratitude and instead said, "No problem, Granger. I have grown accustomed to your fits of belligerent attitude."

"I am not belligerent! You just bring out the worst in me," she huffed.

He turned her around suddenly and swiftly, nearly throwing her off balance.

"You're vilifying me. In most situations, those in which I am comfortable, I am almost 

always refined and merry to be around."

She scoffed. "I think you're just a malapert and are trying to finagle this conversation."

"I have to finagle when caught off guard, as do you, I believe."

She was silent.

"Am I being too spot-on for you, Granger? You know I have you pegged," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "I have you pegged, too."

"So you think you know me?" he asked, stopping their dancing and looking her in the face.

"Yes."

He cocked his head to the side for a brief moment. "I guarantee there's a lot more to see."

Then he spun her around again, once more, for the conclusion of their dance. Once the song ended, he gave a quick, sardonic bow, marched away, and grabbed his mother. After a quick, quiet, argument, they left the party with Draco unaware of just how many thoughts he left Hermione to entertain.


	6. Celebration or Inebriation?

_**Smother Me **_

_By Eriksleadinglady_

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_**A/N**__: Thanks to my betas Shady777 and Ziggygurl!_

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**Chapter 5: Celebration or Inebriation?**

Snow was falling lightly at Malfoy Manor; the sun was just rising, and through the clouds it created a pink, blue, and purple sunset. The big belly oak's bare bark was covered in a thin, yet lovely layer of snow. Since there was no breeze, the snowflakes fell straight and rarely altered from their path to the earth. The weather made for a perfect Christmas day.

Hands stuffed in pockets, walking in the brisk morning air, Draco kicked a patch of dirt. With his head bowed, he couldn't help but remember his father: cold, haughty, arrogant, powerful, and loyal — at least to his family, that is.

Lucius was never a good man - barely even a good father - but he had tried his hardest to protect Draco and Narcissa. There were moments when Draco doubted his father's intentions, still doing so, but Lucius had been loyal till the end.

Unlike what most people believed, Lucius Malfoy put family first. Originally, he may have joined the Dark Lord's cause out of purely selfish reasons, but later, after the fall of Voldemort and his resurrection, Lucius proclaimed he had never, in fact, renounced the old ways - an answer that kept his family breathing. If the answer had been anything less, Lucius would have died that night, along with Draco and Narcissa. However, he managed to buy time working diligently for the Dark Lord while at the same time keeping good graces in the Ministry with his generous donations to their committees.

But by the end of the war, he had left his family torn apart.

Who would have suspected that redemption came at such a hefty price?

Redemption, by means of family protection, was the worst of all, its price being death. But that debt was paid in full, although it held consequences.

Now, on the two-year anniversary of Lucius's death, on this wonderful, snowy, Christmas day, Draco felt a pang in his chest. Even though it was supposed to be the happiest day of the year, Malfoy Manor was mirthless, saddened by the loss of its owner.

Draco looked up and watched the snow fall.

Did he miss his father? Not really.

Was he sad that he was dead? Sure.

Was Lucius rolling over in his grave from the fact that it was because of a muggle-born? Absolutely.

Although Lucius had, until the end, thought of purebloods as a cut above the rest, Draco constantly reminded himself that it wasn't true. Anyone who was graced with magic had a right to use it; at least, that's what people told him. He still struggled with fully grasping that concept - he noticed that his mother did too on occasion, like when there was a wait at a top-notch restaurant. Narcissa would say, "But we're pure - " the word dying on her lips before it even began. Then they would wait, just like everyone else, regardless of their blood status.

Draco turned and stared at his house, letting snowflakes collect on his face. Although he had been invited to celebrate Christmas with Pansy, he was disinclined to accept the request. Luckily, she had understood and did not press the matter. Because part of his family was missing, what was the point in celebrating?

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"A knitted sweater!"

"Me too!"

"And another one!"

They all laughed and held up their own initialed sweater from Mrs. Weasley.

Hermione smiled as she looked down at hers, holding it up to her chest. This year, the sweater was plum with a white "H" embroidered onto the front. Because Harry, too, got a sweater, on the back of his was a "P" and on Hermione's, a "G".

Although the extra letter made it look a little odd, both "H"s appreciated the time and effort of Mrs. Weasley's gift.

Hermione grabbed the next gift on her pile, the last one, actually, and it was from Ron. It was a one inch by two square box wrapped in red wrapping paper and topped with a tiny gold bow. Her stomach dropped at the thought of what it could be.

She opened the package in silence, and she felt all eyes on her with no one saying a word. Their reactions were affirming her dread and they didn't even notice it.

And inside, sure enough, was a velvet ring box. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she cracked open the box and it popped open. However, it was empty.

With a confused look on her face, she glanced over at Ron and noticed that he was on one knee.

_Oh, no. He wouldn't…_

"H-Hermione," he asked in a tiny voice, "will you m-marry me?"

In his hands, there was a simple, yet elegant, diamond ring.

She stared at the jewelry, unable to bring herself to say anything, afraid of how everyone would take her response.

After a few seconds that felt like hours she responded. "Ron… I'm not ready to get married."

His eyes stared at her, unblinking. "What?"

She felt way too hot. "It's just that, well, I still have so many things that I want to do. I have my career, and you know that I want to travel. I just… I can't do all that with a family."

"It's not like I am asking you to throw away your life, Hermione."

It was getting hotter. "You say that now, but I know that you are going to want kids soon enough and I'm just not ready for that yet. I'm not ready."

"So is that no?"

She was burning up. She could tell her face was pink. "It's a not right now."

"And what does that mean?" Sometimes, he was so thick.

"It means exactly what I said." She couldn't take it anymore. "I need some air."

Once outside, she took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh mid-morning air. Why had Ron proposed to her? Sure, they had been dating a little over a year, but didn't he know that she wasn't ready? They had never talked about marriage, and she just figured that when, and if, he ever proposed, she would be the one to suggest it. She never thought that he would actually get the courage to ask her on his own.

She heard footsteps on the porch behind her.

Sighing, she closed her eyes. "Ron, I don't really -"

"It's Harry."

"Oh." She turned around.

His eyes looked sad. "Are you okay? I know Ron just kind of dropped this on you…"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I just didn't expect him to ask me, that's all."

"I tried to tell him not to, but he wouldn't listen," Harry said with a wry smile. "He figured you were ready, and he said that you were sending signals that you wanted to get married. No one else saw anything, but he swore he did."

"Who do you mean by no one?" she asked, her brows furrowed.

"The entire Weasley family. They all didn't want him to ask you yet, either, but he insisted."

"So was that why they were all staring at me like that when I opened my gift?" she said with a barely visible smile.

"Sure is," grinned Harry.

She nodded her head and turned back around to look at the landscape.

"I-I know you're probably mad at Ron, but just know that he really does love you," said Harry.

"I know."

"I mean, I'm not pushing you to marry him, or anything, Hermione," he continued, "but at least think about it. And if you don't want to - ever, I mean - then tell him now. Let him know if you're not happy."

"What do you mean I'm not…" But Harry had already left silently back into the house. Shoulders slumped as in defeat, she continued to look out across the land and wondered what it 

was she wanted, _really_ wanted, to do with her life.

Glancing over her shoulder, she could hear them all talking about her inside. Right now, she couldn't even stand the thought; it sickened her and she just wanted to get away.

Thus, she turned on the spot and disapparated to Diagon Alley.

0o0ooo0o0o0o0o0o00o

Another shot of firewhiskey, and Draco was on his way to euphoria. With a wave of his hand, Draco got another glass from the bartender at the Leaky Cauldron. Already having eight in him, Draco considered himself happy. Sure, maybe it was a drunken happiness, but it was still happiness all the same: at least, it was the only kind he could get on Christmas.

Narcissa was a mess, crying all morning long in her room, door locked and blocked against any spells, and bang as he might, Draco couldn't get her to open her door, not even for her gift. Damning it all to hell, Draco had decided to spend his Christmas away from home and at the Leaky Cauldron. The people were pleasant here - laughing, shouting, clashing drinks - and he found it very liberating being among them, especially since they were like him and without anyone special to share their holiday with.

He downed the glass and waved to the bartender.

"Don't you think you've had enough, Mr. Malfoy?" the man asked softly, wiping a glass clean.

Draco leaned forward, his head wobbling slightly, and pointed a lazy finger at the man. "I am paying you good money, sir, good money. If I want firewhiskey and lots of it, then that's what I'm going to get." He paused, his eyes squinting. "And please, call me Draco. It means dragon," he whispered as an afterthought.

The bartender grumbled something unintelligible, but Draco was too drunk to really notice or care.

"Malfoy?" A voice said from behind him.

Swiveling around in his seat, he turned and faced Hermione.

He grinned from ear to ear. "Granger! How nice of you to join me for a happy Christmas toast!"

"Malfoy, are you drunk?" she asked incredulously, staring at him like he had sprouted another head.

"I prefer the term inebriated," he said, falling a little off his chair. "Sounds more sophisticated, don't you think?"

Hermione waved a hand in front of her nose. "You, Draco Malfoy, smell." She glanced around. "And it is too loud in here."

Draco's eyes widened. "Ah! To the Manor, then!"

Then he grabbed her arm with great force, dragged her out of the bar, and, after nearly falling over, disapparated.

Once they landed, they were very lucky not to have gotten splinched. Draco teetered on 

his feet and leaned on Hermione's arm for support. However, he only did so for a split second and then realized that he was perfectly fine to walk on his own. He led her up the front steps - a very dangerous feat for a very drunk man - and into the Manor.

It was not decorated in the slightest for Christmas - there was no red or green, no Christmas tree, and certainly no left over cookies from Santa.

When they got to the living room, Draco immediately went for the oak cupboards, rummaged around, declared an "Ah!", and then faced Hermione, bottle in hand.

"Firewhiskey?"

Hermione was snatching the bottle away from him in mere seconds. "Oh no, you don't. I think you've had quite enough."

She put the bottle away. "Now, I think it's best for you to get some rest."

Draco glanced at the clock. It took a moment for his eyes to focus on the little numbers, but when they did, he declared, "But it is only noon. How can I sleep at noon?"

Hermione raised her eyes at him. "Because you," she slammed a finger into his chest, "decided to get drunk in the early hours of the day!"

He rolled his eyes. "What if I want to celebrate Christmas?"

"Fine!" she huffed. "_Everto Ebrietas_!" **(1)**

Immediately Draco's head cleared, and he stared at Hermione for the first time with clear eyes.

"Granger…? What in the bloody hell happened!" he fumed. "And why are you in my house?"

She took a step away from him.

He couldn't remember anything. Why couldn't he remember anything?

"If you confunded me, Granger, I swear…" His eyes were narrowed, nearly black from his rage, and his fists were clenched, bottling in some of his fury.

"I-I didn't!" She shook her head fervently. "Maybe, maybe the _everto_ accidentally erased your memory of drinking!"

He could tell she was afraid of him and that worried him more than anything. "Just get out. Out!"

Hurriedly, she gathered herself together and went fleeing from the premises. After catching her breath, she disapparated, leaving behind a very confused and lonely Draco.

**Latin for "**_erase drunkenness_**"**


	7. The Battle

_**Smother Me **_

_By Eriksleadinglady_

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_**A/N**__: Thanks to my betas Shady777 and Ziggygurl!_

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**Chapter 6: The Battle**

_Draco was making his rounds through the woods. He was tired of having to look for Harry because he knew that Harry never stayed in one place for too long, making him nigh impossible to find. Draco wasn't even sure what Harry was looking for, or doing, but neither did the Order. _

_It was Christmas Eve, yet no one was celebrating. At least, none of the Death Eaters were. Sure, it would have been nice to be at home, relaxing and opening gifts, but his home wasn't even his home anymore. With the Dark Lord making his headquarters there, terror seemed to be around every corner. Although, Narcissa's patronus, a snow leopard, was consistently in touch with the Order, creating, perhaps, a feeling of hope._

_Snape also got his information through Narcissa, since the Order no longer trusted him after the death of Dumbledore._

_Draco shined his wand through another patch of trees, feeling as though he was wasting his time. Even if, by some chance, he did come across Harry, it's not like anything good would come of it._

_Suddenly, he heard a thump in the distance and hushed voices. Hurriedly, he went over to the sound, but "Muffliato!" was cast soon enough by one of the voices._

_Coincidentally, Draco happened to be inside the radius they set up. Draco looked across the batch of trees - and so did Goyle._

_Draco held an inkling feeling the moment he heard the people speaking. Now that he was a few feet from the two, he noticed that his feeling was right: it was Harry and Hermione._

_He cursed under his breath. Goyle had seen them too._

_Rolling his eyes, he rushed up to Harry and Hermione, wand held in front of him. He nodded to Goyle, who then went scurrying off to get the others._

"_Potter. Granger," he drawled._

_Both seemed to be at a loss of words._

"_Malfoy?" said Harry._

"_How did you find us? I set up all the precautions…" She glanced around her, eyes worried._

"_I was inside the radius of your charms, Granger. Next time, be more careful."_

_Hermione rose to her feet. "Well, it was nice seeing you, Malfoy. Now, if you would excuse us, Harry and I must be going -"_

"_No!" yelled Draco, reaching out his hand._

_Harry stared at him incredulously. "You want us to stay here so that the Death Eaters can find us? Are you mad?"_

"_If you leave," said Draco firmly, "then they'll all know that I let you get away."_

_With a flick of his wand, he undid Hermione's wards._

_He cast a quick glance at them before he shouted, "Over here! I've got Potter!"_

_In an instant, Harry tackled Draco to the ground and pinned him."Get out of here, Hermione!" he yelled, struggling with Draco._

_Hermione looked impatient. "Harry… you haven't got a wand!"_

_Immediately Harry stopped struggling, and Draco was allowed to his feet. Straightening his clothes out, he stared at Harry, who was looking sullenly at his feet. _

"_What does she mean, Potter? Why haven't you got a wand?"_

_They heard footsteps approaching in the distance. _

"_It...it got broken."_

_Hermione looked apologetically at Harry. "I'm so sorry, Harry."_

_Draco scowled. "Well, things just got a whole lot better thanks to your stupidity, Potter."_

"_You can thank Voldemort for my broken wand, Malfoy!" growled Harry._

_Glancing, around, Draco saw the other five Death Eaters come into view. "Just follow my lead, and maybe, maybe, you'll be able to get out of this."_

_The Death Eaters surrounded Harry and Hermione, and Draco stepped back to join them. Crabbe and Goyle stood on either side of Draco, and Dolohov, Rookwood, and Nott completed the circle._

"_Well, well, well," snarled Dolohov, "looks like we caught ourselves the Number 1 Unforgivable!" He eyed Hermione. "And don't think I forgot about you, either, you pretty little thing."_

_Hermione moved closer to Harry._

"_Perhaps I'll be able to finish the job I started in the Department of Mysteries!" he cackled._

_Draco eyed the Death Eaters around him, all of whom were smirking. He knew that Crabbe and Goyle would be the easiest to take out; after all, they were as smart as a wart on a fly. Dolohov, Rookwood, and Nott, however, would be a bit more of a challenge._

_Under his breath, he directed a sleep spell at Crabbe and Goyle while the others were preoccupied with their catch. Feeling drowsy, they both fell over into a deep slumber, redirecting the attention of the Death Eaters to them for a second._

_Taking advantage of the distraction, Hermione yelled out, "Confringo!" _

_The tree behind Nott suddenly burst into flames and then came tumbling over. Nott quickly rolled out of the way, avoiding being smashed by the wood only by a fraction of an inch. His wand went flying out his hand, and once again seizing the moment, Hermione cried, "Petrificus Totalis!"_

_With nothing to defend himself, Nott became subject to the body-bind curse._

_With the rush of adrenaline, Hermione snatched up Nott's wand and tossed it to Harry, who was in the middle of dodging curses from Rookwood and Dolohov._

_Draco, amazed by how quick Hermione was acting, was throwing curses at Harry, too, but only half-heartedly and always making sure that they missed._

_When Hermione tossed the wand, Dolohov noticed the distraction opening up and quickly turned on Hermione._

"_Adficio Navitas!" __**(1)**_

_A yellow shot of light erupted from his wand and encircled Hermione. She fell to her knees and felt suddenly weak, like her life was being sucked out of her._

_Draco knew the spell, having seen Dolohov use it before, and knew that if he did not act quickly, the spell would surely kill her. With Harry now holding a wand, fighting Rookwood, and Dolohov returning his attention to Harry, Draco knew this was the moment. Taking a deep breath, he turned to his left, and without a second thought shouted, "Stupefy!"_

_Not expecting a curse to come from an ally, Dolohov was hit directly in the chest. Alarmed at the traitor, Rookwood, seeing himself outnumbered, turned on the spot and disapparated._

_Shock was the first thing Draco saw in Harry's eyes. Draco glowered at the Boy-Who-Lived and cursed under his breath. Hurriedly, he went over to Hermione's side and noticed that she was unconscious, her face paling._

_Immediately, all thoughts lost as to what was happening, Harry rushed over to Hermione's side, too._

"_What's wrong with her?" Harry asked, his voice soft._

"_Energy Drain charm," muttered Draco. "Egius Vita!"__**(2)**_

_He swished his wand over her heart and nearly smiled when he saw life returning to her cheeks. She began to stir and slowly opened her eyes. Once she had regained consciousness, she looked at Harry, making sure that he was there and was all right. _

"_You're not hurt, are you?" she asked worriedly. "That spell… it came out of nowhere."_

_Harry shrugged. "If you hadn't gotten me that wand, Hermione, I would be dead right now."_

_She blushed. "I'm not the only person you should be thanking, right? I mean, I guess we should both be thankful to…" _

_She glanced over at Draco._

_Draco felt his left wrist burning and knew that Dark Lord was on his way._

_Not responding to their thanks, he said quickly, "You have to get out of here now. He is on his way and is very, very angry."_

_Hermione and Harry got to their feet and held hands._

"_Thanks, Malfoy," said Hermione._

_Draco stared at them. "Leave. NOW!"_

_Without a second thought, the two disapparated._

_And Draco, knowing that his master would be angry at him, most of all - Rookwood had to have told him about his traitorous move - disapparated to a batch of woods a safe distance from the Burrow. From there, he made contact with the Order through his own Patronus - a Siberian Huskey - in order to alert them of the discovery of his being a spy and to allow him safe passage into the home._

Draco remembered that night well, when everything had changed for his family. After that battle, his mother was forced to watch her husband tortured and then killed and was then thrown into the basement prison herself.

Meanwhile, Draco had stayed with the Order, fighting alongside them whenever was possible. He was there at the battle of Hogwarts and faced many of his old allies, now his nemeses.

Because his precious information helped track down the runaway Death Eaters, all of his past mistakes were forgiven. That and saving Hermione's life was what had kept him out of Azkaban.

Now, on this late evening of Christmas day, having barely spoken to his mother, the past was all he could think about.

And then this morning when he had seen Hermione in his home. It was strange to wake up from, what he called it, a blackout, and then to see the least likely of people in his home. He knew, after thinking about it, that she was probably right in saying that he had been drinking - that was what he normally did on Christmas - but his pride prevented him from apologizing for his rash behavior.

Perhaps the next time he saw her, he would make up for what he did, but for now, he just wanted some sleep. He couldn't be bothered anymore; he had had enough.

**(1) Latin for "**_Drain Energy_**"**

**(2) Latin for "**_Regain Life_**"**


	8. New Year's

_**Smother Me **_

_By Eriksleadinglady_

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_**A/N**__: Thanks to my betas Shady777 and Ziggygurl!_

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**Chapter 7: New Year's**

"Draco?"

"Yes, Mother?"

"Let's have a New Year's Party."

He paused. Why in the world would he want to have one of those? For his taste, he had had enough parties recently, and suffered at the thought of anymore: the conversations, the dancing, the music, the people… it all got rather dull. But he knew that line of logic would get him nowhere with Narcissa.

"Who would come?" he asked.

"Why, your friends, of course!" She exclaimed, now standing a few feet in front of him. He was on the couch, lazily reading a book. Without so much as raising his eyes, he proclaimed, "I no longer have any friends."

Narcissa sighed. "Don't be silly. We'll invite everyone we know, and it will be fun."

"No."

Now she was getting impatient, and he could tell. But, of course, he would not back down so easily.

"Draco. I had a horrendous Christmas. Please don't make all the holidays be so bad."

Touché. Because Draco knew that his mother was suffering with Lucius's death, he couldn't deny her the party. Finally, he glanced over the pages in his book and looked at her. She was not happy. And not just because of the party, either. She never went out much anymore, and Draco's eyes softened a little.

"You can throw one, but I won't come."

"Fine." Her overall countenance brightened noticeably. "But don't blame me if someone just happens to drag you there."

"And who, pray tell, would be able to do that?"

"Hermione Granger! I've never seen you bicker so much with anyone as much as her, besides Harry, of course."

Draco placed down his book and rose to his feet. Damn. He never should have introduced his mother to that witch. "Granger hates me, I'll have you know - always has, always will. Besides, she's an insufferable know-it-all."

"Precisely the reason why she will be able to get you to come to the party."

"She won't even be at the party."

"Sure she will!"

He paused and an elongated silence elapsed. "You've already invited everyone, haven't you."

She only smiled.

"I'll go," he conceded. "Just spare me the lecture and the meeting with Granger. But I am going to keep to myself, and don't expect me to be happy!"

"I would never expect such things from you, Draco."

"Good. Now if you don't mind, I am going out to dinner," said Draco as he headed toward the door.

"With whom?"

"Pansy. Is there anyone else willing enough to go with me?" he answered, throwing her a quizzical look. There was no one else who he felt so comfortable being facetious with knowing that they wouldn't take it personally.

She feigned thinking. "No, actually, I don't believe so."

"Thanks," he said as he left the house and closed the door behind him.

0o0o00ooo0o0oo0o0o0o0o0o

He got to the restaurant ten minutes late as planned. Of course, Pansy already expected him to be late since he was every single time they met, claiming that he "didn't want to be the one sitting alone at a table." However, she just rolled her eyes at his immaturity; typical of a Malfoy.

He was introduced to his seat, which was across from her at a window table with a view looking out at the coastal waters. They were at the Lobster Pot, nicely situated off the ocean of Church Bay, Anglesey. Anglesey, an island North West of Wales's coast, had a minimal amount of snow covering the ground. The waves were low and foamy, and a sliver of yellow sat just over the horizon. If anyone didn't know Pansy and Draco, they would foolishly figure that they were on a date.

"You're late, as usual, Draco." greeted Pansy, not bothering to rise from her seat.

Draco removed his coat and sat down. "It's the day after Christmas, and you want me to be on time?"

"I was just commenting on how some things never change."

He shrugged. "I knew you wouldn't mind waiting."

Pansy rolled her eyes just as the waiter appeared.

"I'll get the Lobster Thermidor Granville and a glass of Bordeaux wine," ordered Draco, 

barely even looking over the menu.

"And I'll have the Breaded Plaice Fillet," said Pansy.

After the waiter had gone, Pansy noted, "You are so particular with your orders."

"Only the finest will subdue my tastes," he said dully.

She scoffed. "You mean your father's tastes." She leaned forward. "You know, one of these days, I will make you try a cheeseburger and then you'll never look back."

"American food," growled Draco. "Disgusting piles of grease."

"I would hate for your cute little cheeks to get all fat," laughed Pansy. She was smiling and only kidding, of course, but Draco did not indulge her humor.

He sometimes wondered why he even bothered meeting up with Pansy, but then he would always quickly remember that she was one of his only true friends. They had known each other since childhood and had briefly - briefly - dated at Hogwarts. However, Draco quickly ended it because she was so clingy and needy.

Looking at her now, she had gotten older, wiser, and more beautiful, but she was essentially still the same spoiled girl. Her black hair was now long, reaching to the middle of her back, and still straight; her face had lost somewhat of its "puginess", and her legs were magnificent and lasted for days — or at least, he and every other male thought so.

"So are you dating anyone, Draco?" she asked innocently, batting her lashes.

"No, and I don't intend to," he responded simply, wondering where this conversation was headed.

She quickly got excited. "Well, I have this friend -"

"No."

"You didn't even let me finish! She works with me at the prophet -"

"No."

"Would you just let me finish? And she is really interested in meeting you -"

"For my money," he finished coldly.

"Now why would you say that?" demanded Pansy. "She is a really nice, sweet girl, and at least give her chance."

The food got to their table, and Draco wanted a change of conversation. "I don't care how pleasant she seems, all girls are only after one thing: money. And more specifically, _my_ money." He glanced up and noticed she was giving him a death glare. "Now eat your food. I didn't pay for it to just sit there and get cold."

She grumbled something unintelligible under her breath but took a bite of her food nonetheless.

After eating a while in silence, Draco said, "Have you been in contact with Blaise recently?"

"Yes, actually. I invited him over to my house for Christmas" - she raised her eyes at Draco - "and he, unlike other people, showed up. Now, I know you have your reasons for not coming, but it wouldn't hurt you to celebrate sometimes anyway."

Draco couldn't believe what he was hearing. He thought they had gotten past this, but apparently not. Pansy was one of the only people with whom he had discussed his father's death with, and she had sympathized with him, having lost her parents during the war as well. They had somewhat expressed what they would do, how they would cope - as well as any Slytherin could - but Pansy just handled her emotions in a more constructive manner. While she had moved on from her parents' death, he was still dealing with one.

"I celebrate just like everyone else." he growled.

"Your house isn't decorated."

"I bought my mother a present."

"And ended up getting drunk." she said, arms folded across her chest.

Draco could only manage to glare at her. Okay, so he didn't celebrate Christmas in the entire sense of the word, but he did what he could manage.

"Someday," he said, "I will fully celebrate Christmas. But for the time being, I will not dishonor my father's memory by being joyous on the anniversary of his death."

She sighed. "You're an arrogant, stubborn prat, you know that?"

He wiped his mouth with a napkin and ignored her comment. "Tell me, Pansy, what do you do on the anniversary of your parents' death?"

Usually, he hated bringing up her parents, but it was necessary in order to get his point across.

"Well, um," she stammered, "I, uh, go to their graves, mourn, and remember them."

"Any celebrating involved in that?"

He had her cornered.

"Well, no, but -"

"So you expect me to celebrate on the day of my father's death just because it's Christmas?"

Silence. "No…"

"Then what are you asking of me?"

"That you don't let Lucius's death plague your life!" she shouted a little louder than intended.

He scowled; now he was angry with her. "I only let it plague me on the day it happened!"

"And you let it ruin your Christmas!"

"And you let it ruin your 29th of November!"

She rose to her feet, disgust and hurt in her eyes. "It was nice seeing you again, Draco."

Then she turned and left the restaurant, not once looking back.

0o0o0oo0oo00o0o0o0o0o0o

The following week, Narcissa held her New Year's party.

Draco sat in the drawing room by himself. He didn't even know half the people here, and frankly, he didn't care who they were. He felt as though they were invading his house, and with it being only eight o'clock, they would surely be invading it for far too long.

Narcissa had invited nearly everyone she knew and everyone she knew Draco knew, including the entire Weasley family. However, none of them had showed up yet, and Draco was grateful for that. In fact, the only people that Draco knew in the other room were Harry and Ginny, whom he hadn't even greeted.

He frowned as he stared at the ice cubes floating in his rum. The party was a complete disaster, on his scale.

Leaning back over the burgundy couch, Draco glanced into the other room and noticed that at least his mother and her guests were having a good time. Hell, even Potter looked pleased.

Snarling, Draco went into the other room. Dressed in black slacks with a prim, button-up white shirt, he hardly stood out; a good thing too, since he didn't want anyone to pay him any mind.

Harry and Ginny were conversing with one another when Draco joined them.

"Malfoy," greeted Harry, "how nice of you to show up to your own Manor's party."

"Shove it, Potter. Where's the other half of the group? I thought you all traveled together," he mentioned sardonically.

"Has anyone told you how funny you are?" asked Ginny, seemingly serious, but all the while facetious.

Draco crossed one arm over his chest and brought the other to rest on his mouth, as if in contemplation. "You know, no one ever has. I always thought you were a cut above the other Weasels."

Ginny rolled her eyes, but it was Harry who spoke. "As for your inquiry, Draco," - there was that first name again - "Ron couldn't make it…"

"Because he, like the rest of my family, can't stand you," interjected Ginny.

"Charming wife, Potter," said Draco, still looking at Harry.

He offered a weak grin. "And Hermione… well, she couldn't make it either."

Draco smirked. "Staying in then, eh?"

The newlyweds caught his drift. "Oh, no. No, _no_!"

"Gross!" added Ginny, crinkling her nose.

"No, um," continued Harry, now beet red, "they are actually not really talking to the each other right now."

"Such ill news, you bring me!" he brought a hand to chest, but then began laughing. "I never expected them to last, anyway; Granger has way too many brains for Weasley, and Weasley has… no, Weasley _lacks_ any real thoughts!"

The couple glared at Draco now, after openly insulting their friend and family. "Do you even realize who you're talking to?" asked Ginny, aghast.

"Of course he does," snarled Harry. "Otherwise, he wouldn't even waste his breath on Ron. He takes pleasure in other people's discomfort and anger."

"Sick, I know," continued Draco's frivolity.

"You know, Malfoy, for a second I almost thought - "

"Harry Potter!"

They all turned to look at the new comer.

"Gilderoy Lockhart?" said Harry incredulously. They had all heard of his recovery shortly after the war ended, but no one had seen him.

He waved his hands as he made the triangle of people into a circle, inserting himself right between Draco and Ginny. "Yes, yes, I know. What in the world is a famous man like me doing here on New Year's Eve?"

Draco's face of disgust and contempt was immeasurable.

And Ginny looked like she really needed a camera.

After no one answered (it was uncertain whether or not Gilderoy actually expected anyone to), he continued, "Well, you see, I got this very pleasant invitation from Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy. And I thought to myself, why, I haven't seen that woman in years! After hearing about the tragic loss of her husband" - Draco blanched noticeably - "I just couldn't bear the thought of her invitation going unaccepted! Anymore pain caused upon that woman will surely make her go insane -"

"Excuse me!" said Draco.

Gilderoy, however, only raised his hand. "Please wait your turn; I am not finished yet. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, Narcissa. Well, now that she's only living with that no good son of hers" - Ginny held up her hand to hide her laughter, as did Harry - "I just couldn't let her have a party without me! I mean, just imagine what his friends must be like and imagine having them running amuck all over the mansion…"

"Oh, they certainly are a sight to behold," cried Ginny, who was now nearly doubling over in laughter unable to hold it in.

Gilderoy stared at her. "Did I say something funny?"

Draco grabbed the man by the collar. "You have insulted me enough, Mr. Lockhart!"

It was rare when Draco resorted to physical action, but when he did, it was dangerous.

"M-Mr. Malfoy." His face was pale. "I-I didn't e-even realize that it w-was you."

Draco slammed him up against the nearest wall, and Gilderoy's head thumped against it after his back. Draco's face was a mere inches from Gilderoy's when he said, "Get out now, and if I ever, _ever_, see you again, I will not hesitate to hex you into a million tiny pieces. Do you understand?"

Before he got an answer, Draco had thrown Gilderoy onto the ground. The minute he was out of reach, Gilderoy took off through the door, leaving the party.

The next face Draco saw was his mother's; she was nearly in tears. "Draco Regulus Malfoy! What have you done to that poor man?"

Being reprimanded in front of all the guests wasn't helping his temper. "This party is over."

He walked past everyone, and on his way up the stairs, knocked a man's drink out of his hands, and the glass clashed to the ground, broken.

"It's not even midnight!" Narcissa yelled after him.

He turned around and roared, "I don't bloody care!"

Then he disappeared down the hall, and everyone jumped when they heard a door slam.

Because of his anger, Draco never realized that Hermione had just arrived, a look of confusion on her face from the disgruntled party and the fact that it was breaking up, sending her, and everyone else, home.


	9. Ministry of Magic

_**Smother Me **_

_By Eriksleadinglady_

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_**A/N**__: Thanks to my beta Shady777!_

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**Chapter 8: Ministry **

The Ministry of Magic was a more competent, more reliable place now, with Kingsley Shacklebolt advising Scrimgeour on duties as the Minister and Harry Potter as the head of the Aurors. Overall, the Ministry was more public-friendly, and everyone was much more reasonable than before. Things actually got done, trials went fairly, justly, and smoothly, and dark wizards were on the run.

However, in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, there was one witch with her own group of advisors, understudies, and supporters that fought for the rights of magical creatures, namely House Elves. And of course, this witch was none other than Hermione Granger.

Over the past year, she had been able to free a good amount of elves from their servitude to the wizarding kind. Through the loopholes in contracts and through laws written, she was able to find a way to free them. However, since they liked serving anyway, they still served to some point, although now they had to get paid for doing it. What they did with their money, though, was still up for debate.

Many wizards still had problems with these changes, and just to rub salt in their wounds, Hermione hired none other than Kreacher to work for her. At first, Kreacher was adamant about not taking the position - she was a "Mudblood" and had terrorized his former mistress's house on many occasions - but she was best friends with Harry Potter, and Kreacher liked Harry Potter.

So Kreacher agreed under one condition: he got to keep any special artifacts that came into the department that weren't needed. Hermione gladly agreed, and that too was his payment for work. Through this, he obtained an assortment of things: jewelry boxes, enchanted pens, bracelets, earrings, watches, etc. He was a happy elf at the end of the day, when all was said and done.

Hermione was in pure glee at the progression of her department, and no one could stomp on her glory. That is, however, until a certain man came into her office, demanding a house elf.

0o0o0oo00o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Draco walked into the Ministry of Magic, haughty as usual. People stared at him, yes, people gave him dirty looks, yes, and girls swooned over him, yes, but he paid them no mind. He still gave generous donations to the Ministry, and no one could refute his right to be there for any means.

He walked to the elevator - no one got in with him - and he went up to the floor two. He didn't need to stop and ask for directions; he had been here many times before and, like his father, knew this place like the back of his hand.

The elevator stopped at his destination and he nimbly got out, walking down the hall to the left. The receptionist got this look on her face like she wanted to stop him, but then quickly shut her mouth at the drawn lines of hate on his face. She never said a word.

He got down to the end of the hall and swiftly knocked two times on the door on the right. The sign on the door read:

_H. Granger_

_Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

_Care for Mistreated Magical Creatures_

_Head Leader_

He smirked. She had opened her own department: how charming. From the inside came a, "Come in!" to which Draco quickly opened the door and shut it behind him.

Hermione's office was certainly a sight to behold. There were two large, wooden bookcases, filled with every type of book imaginable, two cushioned chairs opposite her desk, and on her desk were piles and piles of papers, some marked with notes, and others thrown with disregard. The room was a mess, yet at the same time immensely organized. Also, on her desk were pictures of Ron and her and of "_the Golden Trio_".

Hermione was busily writing away on a plain piece of paper, a thick pile of papers stapled together next to her.

After she had finished writing her sentence, she looked up, noted Draco, and looked back down, continuing her work.

"Not today, Malfoy."

Draco took a seat anyway. "You don't even know why I'm here."

She sighed and put down her quill. "Probably to torment me, like always."

He made a sour face. "Tormenting you is like second nature to me, but that is not why I am here."

She raised her eyebrows, but did not seem too curious for his reasons, for she said, "No one has really seen you since New Years and that was over a month ago."

"Have you been worried over my well being?" He smirked.

"Your mother's, actually. No one has seen her either."

She gave him a hard look that told him he had better explain himself.

"After the disaster of her party, she hasn't really felt the need to converse with people or go out," he said nonchalantly.

"And you don't see anything wrong with that?" argued Hermione. "You ruined her party, made her cry, and now she's obviously upset, and you think everything is hunky dory?"

Draco's eyes narrowed. "What would you know about the party? You didn't even come."

"For your information, I did come, just as the party was ending with you marching away like a spoiled child to your room."

Draco now looked purely austere, his face drawn in, and his fists clenched tight. "You should not speak of what you do not know. I was openly insulted to the highest degree -"

Now Hermione was on her feet. "Oh? Like I have never been insulted in my life?"

"I didn't come here to argue with you -"

"Well you should have bloody realized that we would! That's all we ever do!"

"You are obfuscating the reason for my being here!" yelled Draco who was also rising to his feet. "I actually came here looking to hire a House Elf!"

Hermione stared at him for a second before plopping down in her seat. "Oh…" Then her anger boiled up again. "You probably only want a House Elf in order to abuse it! Like I am supposed to believe that you've suddenly gone...gone, benignant, or something! Ha!"

Draco crossed the room in two swift strides and pounded his hands down her desk, causing her to flinch. "Do you honestly expect me to _pay_ for a House Elf just so I can torture it?"

"No…"

"Then am I to presume that you're just God-awful stupid for running your mouth and for your impetuosity? I think not. You're smart, Granger, I'll give you that, but think before you speak and think before you let your anger take a hold of you; nothing good comes from hate or anger." He paused and glanced away from her. "I actually need a House Elf because my mother is running around, trying to do all the cleaning. She just set free our cook, claiming that she was bringing "justice at last"; I haven't had a decent home-cooked meal in a month. She tries to do everything herself, but she can't. I see it wearing down on her every day, and something needs to change." He finally looked back at her and noticed that her mouth was agape and her eyes wide. "I thought that you might be able to help."

It took a while before Hermione could compose herself. Draco could almost hear all the wheels turning in her brain. "How in the world did you get so smart and affable? It's like -- I mean -- I knew that you had changed, but I never realized how much."

He shrugged. "Being a Death Eater teaches you a lot of things, especially when you've never wanted to be one. It can open your eyes and give you a new perspective. Plus, as much as it may surprise you, I actually care about my mother, and I can't stand seeing her falling apart."

Hermione sighed her submission. "All right. I will assign you a House Elf. But if I hear that he is being mistreated, I swear I will ring your neck and steal all your precious money."

Draco smiled. "Who knew about Hermione Granger's cupidity? Fascinating."

She rolled her eyes and handed him a document. "Here's the information on the House Elf. Pay him what you see fit for the job he is doing." She eyed him. "I am trusting you to do that fairly."

"Of course."

"I mean it."

"I understand."

"Really, don't be stingy…"

"Hermione, I got it. Stop worrying."

He stopped and shifted his eyes. Bloody hell. Was he just having a pleasant conversation with Granger and actually enjoying it? He had never thought before about doing anything other than arguing with her, but this, this was a new situation for him - for them.

Luckily, Hermione didn't make it into a contretemps with his pause.

"Good. I am trusting you, Draco."

Great. Now they were on first name terms. What did this mean? Friends? Surely not. Acquaintances? Well, weren't they that already?

Dammit.

Friends it was.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0oo0o

Draco's House Elf turned out to be a friendly, high-spirited fellow named Ogden. He was more than pleased to help out around the house, and although Narcissa still wanted to do some things, both Ogden and Draco stopped her: most of the time.

Much to Draco's annoyance, Ogden liked to hum while he cleaned; it felt like they were in a fairy tale. That would have been alright if Draco didn't hate all fairy tales. Every time Draco heard the elf, he wanted to shove a dirty sock down its throat. However, he thought of what he had promised Hermione, and he knew that he couldn't. Thus, he was forced to put up with the miscreant and pay him, too.

For some reason, Draco found it nigh impossible to get his mind off of Hermione. The fact that they were now friends was strange to him. Did she feel the same way? Surely, she had to; she had called him Draco, a name that he had never before heard from her lips. Somehow, he found that he liked the sound of it on her lips, even if it was against his better judgment. There was no way that _that_ could ever happen.

But what was he even thinking about? That they could be more than friends? That he and Hermione could… could have a relationship?

Draco got a weird look on his face. He was revolted by the thought. He could never have romantic feelings for that witch, and no one would allow it. Maybe Narcissa, but what did 

her opinion matter, anyway? Sure, she was Draco's mother, but he had stopped listening to her long ago. Since Draco was the master of the house, he needed to make his own decisions and not be swayed by the wants of others. He was strong-willed, perhaps to a fault, but so was Hermione. Neither of them would allow anything more than friendship. Ever.

Suddenly, he heard a knock at the door. He waited for Ogden to answer it, but when the knock came again, Draco angrily went downstairs himself. Stupid, worthless, expensive House Elf.

Draco opened the door and was astonished to see Hermione standing there. She looked nervous.

"Um, hi?" she offered with a wave of her hand.

Draco's look of bewilderment must have said a lot, because Hermione then said, "Well, um, I was just wondering if we were friends." The last bit fell out of her mouth so quickly that it took Draco a moment to fully comprehend what she had said.

When he did, his jaw just about dropped, and she smiled weakly; so they were on the same page.

"You tell me," he demanded.

Her eyes shifted before she answered, "But I asked you."

Draco crossed his arms. "But don't you know the answer to everything?" he said smugly.

She harrumphed. "Listen, if we aren't friends, or if you never even want to be, just tell me! I feel like an idiot right now for even coming here, but it was just bothering me and I _had_ to know!"

Smiling, Draco raised his hands defensively. It looked as though she would hex him at any moment. "It's been on my mind, too. And, strange as it might sound, I think that we are."

Hermione looked at him aghast. "Really?"

"Do I look like a man who lies?" he asked with his best pair of puppy dog eyes.

"Yes."

"That lies to _friends_?"

"If it furthers a purpose," she said coldly.

He sighed. "You asked me a question, and I answered. Take it or leave it."

She raised her eyebrows. "So you're _offering_ me friendship?"

"No. I think we have already crossed the line of becoming friends. It's up to you, however, if you would like to keep it that way."

Slowly, she nodded her head as she thought it over. Then she gave him a penetrating look. "I'm giving it a chance, Draco Malfoy. But if you step one tiny little toe out of line, I'm done."

Draco smirked. "You're making this sound like more than it is. Just because we're friends doesn't mean we can't goad each other to the brink of insanity. I enjoy arguing with you - when it doesn't end in resentment - and I think you do as well. Let's keep it simple." He held out his hand. "Friends?"

With pursed lips, she accepted. "Friends."


	10. Crossing the Line

_**Smother Me **_

_By Eriks_leadinglady_

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_**A/N**__: Thanks to my beta Shady-777!_

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**Chapter 9: Crossing the Line**

From that day onward, Hermione stopped by Malfoy Manor at least once a week. Draco thought it was strange, but only because, he figured, he had never really had a friend like Hermione. All of his previous friends had been Slytherins, and they weren't really friends anyway - just people to boss around and control. The Slytherin setup was like hegemony: one nation ruling over others. And Draco Malfoy was that ruling nation in Slytherin.

Gryffindor friends were different, Draco now knew. They wanted one's company, cared about what one had been up to, and other nonsensical things like that. Draco was in new territory, and he had no idea what to do with it. Whenever Hermione would stop by, she would bring him something. Maybe she only did it because she always wanted a reason to show up, but sometimes, he really wished she would show up with nothing in hand. One time, she brought over a cake. _A cake_. Then she hung around for a bit, talked about work and Harry and Ginny, and then she left.

The cake sat in his dining area untouched.

And when she stopped by the following week, he had hurriedly thrown it in the trash so she wouldn't see it.

On that particular visit, she brought him a book entitled _The Powers of Elemental Magic_ by Gregory Donaghey.

In truth, he had already studied this book, but he denied ever seeing it just to humor her. Even so, he reread it, and when she returned six days later, he was completely ready for the discussion.

Hermione was sitting on a large, black leather chair in his living room, the book on her lap, looking him steadily in the eye. Draco sat diagonal from her on the matching black couch, returning her look and still pondering over the intensity she held in her own gaze. He never knew her to be so imposing before. She was like an interrogator that if he said the wrong answer, she would wring his neck and prove him wrong and insignificant. However, she didn't know who she was dealing with, and Malfoys could not be intimidated.

Still, she did one helluva good job.

"So," she began, "what did you think of the book?"

He gauged whether she had liked it or not. Since she didn't look pleased, he figured not. "It gave a good sense of what elemental magic fundamentally is and how and where it originated, but it lacked any good direction on how to master it."

She pursed her lips, a sign of an approaching hurricane. "You didn't find it at all dark and rudimentary?

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Quite the opposite, actually." He felt a good debate approaching like the coming winds of a storm. "Donaghey is a well-travelled, well-versed author. He went directly to the source of elemental magic - the Chinese Warlocks - and uncovered the secrets there, at the beginning of it all. It displays an educated definition of the philosophy of elemental magic and its uses. However, it gives no indication on how to create elemental magic, only where it came from, each elements meanings and desires, and what the wielder of certain magic can do."

Hermione wasn't in the least bit impressed. "Actually, Donaghey's accounts of elemental magic are completely surmised. It is not even proved that the Chinese did, in fact, discover elemental magic and its uses. In reality, elemental magic is more closely connected to the Native Americans. The Chinese never produced anything with elemental magic until _after_ the Native Americans introduced it to the rest of the Wizarding world. To base his entire novel and facts upon something theorized is unprofessional and unrealistic."

Oh, she was good. No wonder she was a lawyer. "You would be correct if not for one thing. If you knew your history and geography, then you would know that the Native Americans originally came from Asia. Therefore, elemental magic still came from the Chinese and Donaghey would be correct in what he says."

Now she was smiling. "According to the Native Americans, they have actually been there forever, for lack of a better word. The migration that you just so proudly cited is wrong, at least according to them. It is a way just to say that they are not actually "native". There is fact that they have been there twenty-thousand or more years. Who's to say that they migrated at all? And, even if your little theory was true, the fact of the amount of years they've been in the Americas would _still_ disprove the fact that the Chinese created Elemental Magic." She was now grinning from ear to ear in sheer triumph. "Thus, Donaghey's account of at least half of his book is false or at least surmised."

Well, hell. "You may be right about where it originated, but that does not belittle Donaghey's book. Elemental magic is extremely difficult to master and to understand. Even if the place of origination is incorrect, that does not make the facts incorrect as well."

"He based his facts on Chinese traditions and beliefs. Native American's would view elemental magic entirely differently. In order to fully use and understand a magic, you have to understand its background and where it came from. Donaghey probably can't even use elemental magic, and I am sure I know why."

"_Why_?" He was getting frustrated with her; her refusal of ever being wrong was infuriating. "Why? Because he maybe, _maybe_, got his fact of where elemental magic came from wrong? That is untrue. The use of elemental magic has absolutely nothing to do with where it came from. That information would be completely unhelpful."

Hermione puffed out her chest. "I bet I could do elemental magic if I learned more about where it came from and how to use it. Using the real facts, I mean."

He cocked an eyebrow and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. "The only people I have ever seen use elemental magic are Dumbledore, Severus, and the Dark Lord. I don't think that you will be able to do it, too."

That didn't go over to well with Hermione. "Just because you can't do it doesn't mean that I can't!"

"You're not powerful enough."

"Why?" she said, her voice rising. "Just because I am a Muggle-born?"

"I didn't say that," growled Draco.

"You might as well have!"

Draco rose in one swift movement from his seat and towered over her. "Fine. You can't do elemental magic because you are a filthy _Mudblood_."

Immediately, Hermione got out of her seat and looked him dead straight in the eye, daring him to mock her again.

"Now prove me wrong," he said, and he knew she would do just that.

0o0o0o00o0o00o0o

It turned out that Hermione could not do elemental magic, and it frustrated her. She, who could do every other magic and every other spell, could not do this one. She studied many books on the subject - even the aforementioned Donaghey's - but could not crack into what the magic was about. That was when she enlisted Harry and Ginny's help.

"So why are you so adamant on learning this stuff?" asked Harry, pulling out his wand and reading through a book.

"Because," answered Hemione, "I need to prove Draco wrong. He cannot be allowed to speak to me like that, let alone be right."

Ginny looked up from her book and said, "Of course he isn't right! He can't do it, can he? And he's a pureblood! Only the most legendary wizards have truly mastered this stuff. You're only twenty, so don't expect too much."

Harry grinned."She's Hermione; of course she expects too much of herself."

Ginny laughed and continued her studies. "Yes: above and beyond is her motto."

Hermione stomped her foot impatiently. "This isn't helping!"

"Just give us a minute to read, all right? We'll practice with you in a minute," said Harry.

Thus Hermione waited, and in complete silence, too. She stared at them for a good hour before they finally began to practice.

"According to Donaghey, you have to first control the elements." Harry flicked his wand. "_Impelementio_!"

Absolutely nothing happened.

"And then you have to say the name of the element you want," added Ginny.

Harry nodded his head. "_Ventus_!"

Again, absolutely nothing happened.

Hermione frowned. Maybe Draco had been right; perhaps elemental magic was too hard for them.

Harry, however, continued to try. "I've seen a lot of wizards use fire. Maybe it's the easiest to master?"

He looked between the two girls, both of which just shrugged their shoulders. "_Impelementio_!" A pause. "_Incendio_!"

Suddenly, a small flicker of fire protruded out of the end of Harry's wand. However, instead of going anywhere, it stayed in place, hanging on to the tip of the wand.

"I thought it was supposed to light something on fire," mentioned Ginny, staring thoughtfully at the flame.

Hermione shook her head. "No. This is controlling the elements, not simply using them like nearly every wizard can. Anyone can light a building on fire or light a fireplace. This is elemental magic."

Harry started and turned, causing his flame to extinguish. "So I can do elemental magic?"

"It would appear so. At least, in its simplest form. That was just creating and holding fire. You need to be able to send it places and make it do your will. Embody it, so to speak."

Everyone was silent for a moment, trying to figure out what it meant. Then, Hermione sighed. "I guess Draco was right then."

"What?" echoed harry and Ginny.

Hermione began pacing the room. "Well, it was easy for you to do, Harry. You got it on your second try. I have tried a million times, and still nothing. If I were able to do it, I think I would have done so already.

Ginny stepped forward. "You can't just give up so easily!"

"Easily?" cried Hermione. "I have been working at this for a week and still nothing! How long am I supposed to go at this for? I'm sure Draco already knows that I can't, so what's the point?"

"Well," began Harry thoughtfully, "I can do it and I'm not a Pureblood. Therefore, that already disproves his theory on how our type isn't powerful enough."

Still not convinced, Hermione shook her head. "No. It's not the same. He specifically said I wasn't strong enough." She laughed hollowingly. "Funny thing is, I think he wanted me to prove him wrong. He said so himself." She sat down on the chair, defeated. "Now I've let not only myself down, but him too."

Ginny sat next to her and put her arm around her shoulders. "Who cares about stinking Malfoy, huh? So what you can't do elemental magic. You're still one of the smartest, most powerful witches out there!"

"Apparently not." She sighed and started moving about the room again. "I have to own up to this on my own."

Harry offered a wry smile. "Well, at least you two will have one more thing in common: neither of you can do elemental magic."

Hermione shot him a glare. "I don't think that will help in any way, shape, or form, thank you very much. I think all this will do is boost his ego that much more."

Ginny scoffed. "I'm surprised his head isn't exploded already, vacuous as he is."

After that, Hermione had to laugh, even though she was dreading the next day when she would go see Draco.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

_Knock knock knock_

Draco sighed. If it was Rita Skeeter again, he could not be held responsible for his actions. That slimy, conniving, nosy woman had been trying to get an interview with him on why Hermione Granger was here so often. He had read an article in the Daily Prophet on how they were either doing one or two things: seeing each other romantically or joining together on some "save the elves" project.

Personally, Rita liked to think it was both - more publicity and more scandal - but Draco refused to talk or even see the witch.

_Knock knock knock_.

He didn't even want to answer it, but knew that he had to. If Ogden or his mother got it, then they would surely let Rita inside; it was a risk he refused to take it.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and was surprisingly relieved to see Hermione standing there, looking quite nervous.

He had not seen her in a little over a week. He figured she was using the time to practice her magic to perfect it before she brought it before him. Now, he was surprised to see she had learned it so fast.

Before he could even invite her inside, she blurted, "I can't do it!"

He leaned his head forward an inch. "Excuse me?"

She sighed and brought her hands up and then down against her legs. "I can't do elemental magic!"

Hanging her head in defeat, she moseyed her way past Draco, into his house, and slumped down on his couch. He followed silently and sat on the chair.

Although she pouted, she still glared at him waiting for an answer of some kind.

"Would you like to know why?" Draco took her silence as a yes. "You're too by-the-books. Elemental magic is pure; it comes from nature. Let go of the laws of the world and follow your natural instincts instead. It's all about listening to the energy around you: just like regular magic, just without all the precision."  
Her brow was furrowed as she said, "How do you know so much about this, anyway?"

The dreaded question and the reluctant answer.

He brought up his fist in front her at eye level, and then he opened it slowly, revealing a tiny, pulsating flame resting in his palm.

Hermione stared at it, her eyes revealing nothing. "You lied."

Draco rolled his eyes, and he turned over his head, vanishing the flame. "I didn't want to show-off."

She kept her tone even. "All Malfoys want to show-off. You didn't want to make me feel stupid."

"You're Hermione Granger. You _have_ to be a know-it-all, and you have to be able to do everything that anyone else can do. I couldn't diminish that by having an ability that you did not possess."

"You have insulted me enough, Draco," she huffed.

"It was a compliment," he said smoothly.

"A compliment." She didn't buy it. "Have you completely lost your mind? How is that a compliment?"

His tone did not rise to meet hers. Instead, he had expected this to happen if she had failed. He stared at her for a moment before he answered. She was breathing heavily, and he was mesmerized by the rise and fall of her chest, of how she, just like him, was another human being with a beating heart. She was his match in wits, yet not his match in magical abilities like he had hoped; there was still a ways to go to catch up to him.

Staring at her now, he realized that she had tamed her hair slightly; it wasn't as bushy as it had been. Her eyes were aglow with just a hint of makeup and her cheeks were pink - whether that was from anger, blush, or natural beauty, he couldn't tell. Either way, he didn't really care.

"Well?" she continued. "Are you going to answer or not?"

He looked her in the eyes evenly. "You're ambitious, persevering, clever, and intelligent. You don't allow yourself to fall below your standards, and when you see someone do an ability that you have not yet learned, you want to teach yourself it. And not to be better than anyone else, but because you want the experience and the knowledge. All those traits earn respect. You should be proud to have them."

The complete look of shock on her face said it all. She didn't move for what seemed like hours and just stared at him as if he had turned into a flower and transported them to a meadow. For some reason, he grew uncomfortable under her stare and cleared his throat in order to draw her out of her thoughts.

She shook her head and leaned back in her seat. "You never cease to amaze me, Draco Malfoy."

"Because I'm not a complete git?"

"Yes."

"Because I never do what you expect me to do? Because I am full of surprises? Because I keep you guessing? Because I have a working brain?" He was being facetious with her, of course, his raised eyebrows and smirk conveying just that.

She rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. "Yes. But don't allow that to go to your head. Ginny said it might explode any day now."

Draco laughed whole heartedly, receiving another one of those looks from Hermione. And for some reason, he suspected that from then on, things would change. But he wasn't sure if he wanted them to.


	11. Jealousy

_**Smother Me **_

_By Eriks_leadinglady_

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**Chapter 10: Jealousy**

Ron usually wasn't the jealous sort. Ah, who was he kidding; it was in his nature to be extremely jealous. In most cases, and this one specifically, he was jealous of anyone who was spending more time with his girlfriend than he was - even if said girlfriend declared them to be "on a break". As far as he was concerned, she was still his, and no one, especially the conceited ferret Draco Malfoy, was going to change that.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Hermione was irritated and frustrated. Ron was refusing to leave her alone. Earlier that day, he had flooed to her flat in Muggle London (she had moved out of the Burrow shortly after Christmas), and he hadn't left since. She had made several blatant hints that she had to go places, but Ron ignored them all. All he did was talk about Quidditch, and although Hermione usually enjoyed the topic, today it was rather annoying. Maybe that was because he kept saying the same thing over, and over, and over, and over, and over again.

"Henry O'Koofe made an amazing goal on Friday's game!" continued Ron's stoppage of his departure. "I just couldn't believe the way he swooped, dived, and -"

"Got past Victoria Lettam's infamous block," finished Hermione dryly.

The story had been retold numerous times, and she had already stored it away in her long-term memory - unwillingly, of course.

"Oh, have I said that already?" asked Ron.

"Yes. I think you've said everything that anyone possibly could about Quidditch. But seriously, Ron. I have a lot of things to do today, and you're wasting my time. I think it's time for you to leave."

Ron didn't seem to notice her cold words or her caustic tone. "Ok, Hermione. Maybe I'll stop by later."

He stepped into the fireplace and flooed away before he could hear her say, "Don't bother."

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**INFERI ATTACK IN MUGGLE TOWN**

_By: Edmund Proust_

_Yesterday, a horde of Inferi made an appearance in a little muggle town on the outskirts of London. The death tally is still under way, but already twenty-five muggles have been found dead. The person behind the attack is still unknown, as is whether or not this was a onetime event or if more are on the way. _

_Lead Auror, Harry Potter, made this announcement: "All that can be done is being done. No magical residue was left behind, and only one Inferi was found idle after being attacked with what we presume to be a torch. Whoever did this was well-prepared and well-trained. For now, all we can do is hope that there will be no more attacks. We ask that all wizards report any strange activities to the Ministry of Magic, and if any Inferi sightings are made, call for help and remember that they are weak against fire."_

_We encourage all readers to follow Harry's warnings and advice and be on the lookout. _

_The Minister also sends out this message: "This madman will not be tolerated! All of the Aurors are on the hunt for him as we speak. If he wishes to reinstate the fear created by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, he will not be humored! Don't let this attack scare you and be sensible. This man will be stopped and our citizens have absolutely nothing to fear."_

_Strong words from the Minister, but can they be trusted? Who knows where the next attack will be. All citizens should, no matter what, be cautious. If this Dark Wizard is anything like He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, then everyone should be on the lookout and be wary of his or her surroundings. _

_The Daily Prophet will be covering all turn-of-events in this ongoing story, and if you wish for any updates, we're the ones to turn to!_

Draco finished reading the article and frowned. In the past, there were never many Inferi attacks, except by the Dark Lord, and Draco knew that _He_ was dead. It flummoxed him that there could be any now, and he needed to know who was behind it.

The following day, he walked into the Ministry. People were running around, papers were flying about the room, and every second, a new person stepped out of the floo. Draco, however, was unfazed by any of it and walked right into Harry's office. He rapped one time on the door and then stepped inside, shutting it behind him.

Harry barely even glanced up from his work, a pile of notes were on his right and fresh parchment was on his left.

There was no hesitation before Draco said, "What do you know about the Inferi attacks?"

After scribbling one more thing, Harry responded, "Absolutely nothing."

Draco arched an eyebrow. "Nothing? You're the head of all the bloody Aurors; you have got to know something."

At last, Harry placed down his quill and looked up. "No, actually, I don't. We don't have any clue as to who is behind it; we don't know where the Inferi came from; we don't know if it'll happen again; so no, I do not know anything."

Draco took a seat. "In order to fight the Inferi, it is going to take a lot of talented wizards."

"I know."

"And the attack was in Muggle London."

A sigh. "I know."

"So what happened to all the muggles who saw?"

"Obliviated."

"If there's another attack, are there enough wizards to fight the Inferi and obliviate all the muggles?" His tone wasn't fearful, just wondrously curious.

Harry pursed his lips. "That's the problem. Not only are Inferi extremely hard to destroy, but it takes a lot of magical power and skill from anyone to do it. It takes nearly all of our trained Aurors to take down twenty Inferi. If there is another attack, it could cause us to be exposed to the muggles, and there would be no way - if the attack was as large as the last one - that we could obliviate and save all the people. Not enough Wizards can do elemental magic, and it can't really be trained in a short amount of time. Most of us Aurors have recently learned to do enough fire magic, but it wouldn't be enough to take down 100 Inferi. I just don't know what to do."

Draco frowned. He was anxious that it would come to this; he never wanted to be the hero. "I can do elemental magic."

Harry's worried expression did not change. "And?"

"I could take down a number of Inferi," explained Draco, irritated.

"Not as many as you or I would like."

"How would you know?"

"Because I have not met anyone who can do the high amount of elemental magic required. No one, at least, except those with many years practice."

Draco looked over to the bookshelf in Harry's room and the entire contraption lit on fire. Then he put it out and looked back at Harry.

"I have practice."

Xxx

Within the next hour, there was another Inferi attack, and this time it was in London. Draco was still sitting in Harry's office, discussing what would need to be done, if there was any international help - which, by the way, there wasn't: they were all enveloped in problems to the same degree - and figuring out how much Draco could teach to other wizards of elemental magic.

It was at that moment in their conversation when Hermione walked in, declaring the news.

"There's been another attack."

Harry rose from his seat. "Gather all the Aurors and tell them to utilize all their powers of fire magic."

Hermione gave a curt nod, and then snuck a quick glance at Draco before hurrying from the room.

Draco's expression of mild indifference failed to change. "I'll come too."

Throwing him a weird look, Harry said, "I would never have guessed that you would have wanted to help."

Shrugging his shoulders, Draco got out of his seat and followed Harry out of the office and into the bustling halls. People were running around with messages everywhere. Because the attack was so near to them, the wizards were fearing for their relatives that lived in Muggle London. The attack was on a much larger scale than the previous one, and they were all fearful to what measures could be taken. If it got out of hand to the extent of large-scale muggle deaths, it might be nigh impossible to keep the knowledge of wizards' existence a secret. This, and the deaths of muggles, was what they all feared the most.

Sadly, the Minister had nothing much to say about the matter, not knowing how to handle it.

As a response to the millions of questions he was getting, he said, "_No comment_."

That, in and of itself, threw people into an even bigger turmoil.

What the Minister needed was a voice for the public since he failed to be one himself. What he needed was the best fighter the English could offer: Hermione Granger.

**A/N: This chapter was shorter than the others, but the next one will include the Inferi battle and perhaps Hermione's step into the lime light.**

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	12. The Inferi

_**Smother Me **_

_By Eriks_leadinglady_

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_A/N: Sorry it took so long! But here it is a long last. I currently lost my last beta *tear* so sorry if there are any mistakes. I tried my hardest by me onesies!_

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**Chapter 11**

No one knew how to handle the Inferi. They knew that they needed to use fire, but how much or at what cost was undecided. The Aurors were at the ready: Harry, Ron, and Draco amongst their mists. They were ill-prepared for the onslaught of nearly one-hundred Inferi; not only because they were outnumbered 4:1, but also because the amount of usable elemental magic was at a low. Draco was their main power force, but no one was sure if that would be enough for a sure victory.

Still, Draco - always the Malfoy - was confident in everyone's ability to win. With his special knowledge and power in the elemental arts, he could more than make up for the uneven numbers. The skies were clear, and although, perhaps, the wizards were all a little unprepared, they knew what they were doing.

When the Inferi came into sight, the sun was just setting and everyone's nerves were on ends. The Inferi moved toward them at an alarming pace, their deteriorated bodies swinging wildly as they moved.

Draco took in the sight of them – nearly one hundred white, deathly forms flooding forward. Getting a grip on the whole pack, Draco concentrated very hard, firmly hoping that he could do this. He mildly heard Potter giving some orders about how to stay steady and smart; apparently, everyone was getting a little antsy and unsure of themselves.

Figures, Draco thought.

But he paid them no mind, for he needed his utmost attention on the coming threat. Thinking of fire, and fire only, Draco moved his hands upward and then down again, creating an up flare of fire from the ground that moved across the town toward the Inferi. The enemy saw it coming, but reacted too slowly, and the entire front lines – nearly a fourth of the entire army – got set aflame and were destroyed.

Harry stared at the attack wide-eyed. He never saw that coming; it was a stronger attack than he had imagined possible. As he watched Draco repeat the movement, three, four more times, Harry knew that this was the elemental magic that Hermione had tried so hard – and failed – to do.

Now Harry felt kind of silly for even being there. Draco was a one man show and needed no other help from the Aurors; no wonder he was so confident before.

The battle lasted a matter of minutes, and before anyone knew it, all that was left of the Inferi was a pile of ashes.

When Draco was done, he fell down to one knee. That had taken a lot more out of him than he had expected. If there was ever another, larger attack, he wasn't sure if he would be enough.

Draco turned his head when he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. Potter. Figures.

Harry flashed him a grim smile. "That was some impressive work, Draco. Perhaps we all have something to learn from you."

Draco managed to rise to his feet and turned to face Harry. "And you're just realizing this now, are you, Potter?"

Harry chuckled, not exactly the response Draco was looking for. "Are you ever anything less than amiable, Draco?"

Even at this, Draco had a show a tiny smile. "Never."

The rest of the Aurors were mumbling behind the two. "So… is that it then?"

Harry turned to face them. "For now, yes. But I think it would be in all our best interests to learn more elemental magic from Draco in the next few days. We can't let him have all the glory now, can we?"

Many people laughed and called out, "No!" here and there. The mood had lightened immensely from just a few moments ago.

After the order from Harry, they all disapparated back to the ministry to discuss the next order of business.

Xxx

"No."

Silence.

"What do you mean, _no_?"

"No. No, no, and no!"

Hermione sat at the desk, arms crossed, mouth set into a firm, straight line. The Minister stood across from her and Harry stood by in the corner while Draco, looking bored and disinterested, stood next to Harry.

The Minister pursed his lips and tried to refrain from yelling. "If you don't help me, Ms. Granger, the entire Wizarding world could fall apart. Or worse: I could lose my position as Minister of Magic…"

He then fell rather oddly silent, as if in a great distress.

Hermione, however, only rolled her eyes. "You should be able to handle this on your own, Minister. If you cannot do that, then perhaps it would be in everyone's best interest that you resign."

Before Scrimgeour could speak, Harry interjected, "You know that if he does that, Hermione, there will be a greater distrust in the Ministry and not only will the Wizards have it, but the muggles will question us even more if our leader abandons us." He paused while she mulled it over in her head. "At least put some greater thought into it."

Hermione was silent. It appeared that she really was considering it, but then she continued with her indignations. "No! I can't believe I even thought it over!"

"I think you should." It was Draco who spoke, making his first comment of the afternoon.

Hermione glared at him, as if he should be the last person to dare to question her decision.

"What?" she said.

He removed his back from the wall and uncrossed his arms, walking forward so that he was a couple feet away from her. "Because if you refuse, then you are making a terrible assumption that Scrimgeour could give a convincing speech."

"Then make Knightley do it!"

"He's too intimidating."

Silence. "And I'm not?"

Draco chuckled. "Muggles will be much more inclined to listen to you without having a suspicion of threat. If Knightly tried talking to them, well, they would probably run away screaming about how he tried to hex them all into oblivion."

It looked as though Hermione were about to object to this, but then she firmly shut her mouth and stayed quiet.

"Okay," she resigned.

Draco smirked. He knew he had won before she had even spoken.

Rufus Scrimgeour clapped his hands gleefully.

Harry frowned. Since when did Draco hold any sway over Hermione's actions?

Xxx

The papers were all abuzz with the recent Inferi attack, or, as the Daily Prophet put it, "_**Draco Malfoy: Hero or Conspirator?**_"After the day's events, people everywhere were discussing what exactly had happened during the fight. Had there even been a fight? Was the whole thing a cover-up for something larger? Since when was Draco Malfoy a hero? Since when was Draco Malfoy an extraordinary wizard?

No one knew.

And no one dared to ask.

Hermione was scheduled for her first press conference (as the muggles called it) two days after the attack. That meant she only had one more day to prepare, and the public had an agonizing one day left to wait and surmise. Everyone was antsy; patience was a hard thing to come by, it seemed.

Hanging on by the last thread, Hermione paced her office in the Ministry. Why had she signed up for this again? Oh yeah, she was tricked by a ferret. Hermione frowned. She didn't really want to do this – who would? – and yet here she was, speech in hand, just waiting to make her debut in twelve hours. She sighed heavily. She had never hated Draco Malfoy more than at this moment. And yet…

And yet he was right. Like always. That thought infuriated her more every second she thought about it.

Taking a deep breath, she said quietly, "No, you were chosen for a reason, Hermione. You're the smartest witch in your class, successful Ministry personnel, an aide in the defeat of Voldemort – you got this. It's a big responsibility, to give a speech to the entire muggle world that could either assist or destroy the wizarding one. It's an honor." She paused. "And I am smarter than he is."

She gave a curt nod of her head, as though it would help make that statement more true, and then turned back to read over her speech.

Suddenly, there was a knock at her door, and her head shot up to glare at Draco.

"What? I'm busy, thanks to you," she said icily. She didn't mean to sound so harsh, but oh well. Being sharp with Draco was nothing new.

But of course, he only smirked – her attitude was expected. "Easy there, Granger. You have a speech to give, so you might want to be a little bit more relaxed."

"Then leave," she said easily, not looking up from her speech.

Draco sighed. "I'm afraid getting rid of me won't be that easy today."

Hermione stopped reading her speech, but still did not look up. She didn't particularly want to hear his explanation. Still, she couldn't resist asking, "And why is that?"

"I'm afraid I'm your bodyguard for today."

Her breath caught in her throat. "_What?_"

Draco ran a hand through his hair. Not a good sign.

She couldn't find her voice. "What?"

Her mouth moved like a fish as she struggled to put into words her infuriation.

"I-I do _not_ need a bodyguard! Let alone _you_!" she screeched.

Pursing his lips, Draco remained silent. He had expected this reaction. Still, he did find it mildly amusing.

Hermione was silent for a moment as she pondered over it more. "Did," she began, "did Harry assign you?"

Silence.

"What is he thinking?" she continued more to herself than to Draco.

This time, Draco decided to respond, even though it wasn't directed at him. "Well, with the recent attacks and all, I think he doesn't want anyone to try anything against you - the new spokesperson for the Ministry. Thus, he decided that it would be best to have someone watching out for you, just in case."

"But I can handle myself!"

Draco raised his hands defensively. "Just following instructions."

Hermione's mouth dropped. _Following instructions_? "D-do you _work_ for Harry?"

He couldn't help but laugh. "Merlin, Hermione. Really? Of course I don't work for bloody Potter. I would never debase myself so." Draco paced to the corner of the room and nonchalantly eyed the book on her bookshelf. Then he turned to look back at Hermione. "No, he hired me, or rather my expertise, in case there are any more Inferi attacks. Also, I am teaching the other Aurors elemental magic." He smirked. "And my newest assignment, of course, is protecting you."

For her response, she pouted and glared at him. "This is utter rubbish."

Draco only shrugged. "For later today, while you're giving your speech, I'll be on the podium next to you. You'll have a barrier around you – just in case – and I'll be on the lookout for anything suspicious. I'll have three other Aurors with me, so you'll have nothing to worry about."

"Except making a complete fool of myself," she muttered under her breath softly so Draco couldn't hear.

Still, he noticed the distressed look on her face and asked, "Don't tell me you're getting cold feet."

Looking up at him, she said, "No, of course not. I just…" she trailed off.

Draco sighed. "Look, you'll do fine. You're Hermione Granger. Isn't writing speeches what you've been training for your whole life?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, actually, it isn't." She paused. "But I know what you're trying to do and… thanks."

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled Draco. "So I'll be back later to escort you, alright?"

Hermione nodded.

Just as Draco was about to leave, she stopped him. "Wait."

He turned. "Yeah?"

She shifted uncomfortably on her feet. "Um," she started, "could you maybe, uh, readovermyspeechforme?"

She said the last few words so quickly it took a moment for Draco to realize what she was asking. Now Draco was the one feeling uncomfortable. "I don't think I'm the best person for that."

"But… you're smart, right?" She twisted the speech in her hands nervously, and Draco eyed her actions with disgust.

Growling, he ripped the speech from her hands and said, "Give me that before you bloody ruin it."

Even though he was rude, Hermione couldn't help but smile. But then, as if realizing what was happening, she scurried after him, following him to his seat.

"I-It's not quite finished yet, just so you know," she said hurriedly.

Draco merely held up his hand to silence her. He read through it furiously fast, and then handed it back to her.

She took it limply. "Huh?"

As he rose from his seat, Draco said, "It's good. Convincing. I think they'll eat it up."

Hermione watched him walk to the door. "That's it? You, you think it's good?"

He just shrugged. "Acceptable."

"Then shouldn't you at least have some sort of advice?"

"This needs to come from you, Hermione. Not me."

Hermione sighed, infuriated. Stomping over to him, she pushed him out the door, saying, "Then I'll see you in a few hours."

Then she closed the door in his face, glad to be rid of him.

Xxx

In the morning, Draco and the three other Aurors came to collect Hermione. Immediately after they stepped out of the Ministry, Draco directed them to the location of the portkey – a dirty glove just to the left of a gutter – and within moments they landed inside a tall, windowed building.

Looking out one of the windows, Hermione asked, "Is that the podium?"

Draco looked nonchalantly over her shoulder, "Yes."

With a quick nod of her head, she answered, "Right, let's go."

When they left the building, Draco grabbed her by the hand and led her to the stage. To Draco, this was him taking his task very seriously. To Hermione, this was him taking it far out of hand. Still, her mind was otherwise preoccupied – there were nearly 200 reporters and Merlin knows how many civilians here to listen to her. But she kept herself calm, and by the time she was standing at the podium, she was ready. This was important, and she needed to do this right.

Once everyone saw her standing before them, they all hushed down and gave her their undivided attention. She placed her mouth a few inches away the microphone and began her speech.

"_Good Day. I would like to start off by saying how honored I am to be speaking to you all today. I know our presence – the wizards, I mean – may come as a shock to some of you, but really, we're not so different. We are taught in schools, we grow up in families, we have banks and finances, homes, and residential communities. We care about each other, just as you all care for one another. We are human, just as you are human, and as humans, we must stand together. There is an impending threat upon both our worlds. I believe that in order to stop this threat, we need to come together – to accept each other's existence - and fight. _

"_First, we need to figure out just who or what is behind this. He or she may be hiding anywhere, in either world, ready to attack anyone at anytime. This threat – this fear – cannot and will not be tolerated. That is why I am asking you to not only forgive us for hiding ourselves, but to aid us in foiling this villains plot. We need your help; we cannot do it alone. I know this may seem like a lot to take in, but we are ready to work with you and your leaders in order to stop this threat. So we are asking all of you to keep your eyes and ears open for anything suspicious, be it shady characters or out-of-the-ordinary signs. More on what to be on the lookout for will be discussed on your local news stations._

"_I know some of you are shocked – maybe even appalled – by our existence. What we can do may not seem normal to you, but I assure you, we are more alike than you know and share many common interests. I hope you all can find it within yourselves to accept us, and by accepting us, helping us all defeat this new enemy. Thank you for lending me your ear and lending us all your aid. We all look forward to working with you and sharing our world. Thank you."_

At first, Hermione was met with silence, and then the questions came pouring in, everyone shouting over one another. Hermione's eyes darted across her audience and saw angry faces, scared faces, and excited faces. She shifted her eyes over to her friends, and no one seemed to be moving. Harry was looking off into the distance, the other Aurors and Ministry personnel were whispering quietly, and Draco – wait.

Where was Draco?


	13. The Plan

_**Smother Me **_

_By Eriks_leadinglady_

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_A/N: More battling up ahead! Woot! And don't worry, beginning with the next chapter, we'll finally have some good ol' DxH. =) All is coming soon!!_

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**Chapter 12: The Plan**

When Hermione began her speech, Draco could already sense something brewing in the air. He was tense, but that just made him more alert and less on edge. He could feel Harry's eyes on him, and he could tell Potter was trying to find whatever it was Draco saw.

But in truth, Draco didn't see anything; at least, not yet. But he was waiting for it. Just waiting for the man – or woman – to make one false move and reveal him or herself…

_Ah._

There it was.

Magic.

And muggles… well, they couldn't do magic, now could they?

And the only approved wizards for today were standing behind him, and no magic was permitted unless commanded by Harry or Draco.

So there was Draco's suspicious character – the advancing, dark gray mist.

He stepped back in inch, then another and another, until he was behind Harry. Then with one last look, he turned and was off the podium, lost in the crowd within seconds. For a split second he wondered why no one else was reacting to the impending trouble, but then again, most of them were not as aware as he was. But still…

He stole one glance behind him, and noticed that Harry was not looking at the mist, but at Draco with a puzzled look in his eyes. Rolling his eyes, Draco nodded his head off into the distance. Harry took the hint and glanced out into the horizon, and then it dawned on him. Pursing his lips, Harry nodded once, and then Draco was once again moving through the crowd.

Watching the dark mist, he was vaguely reminded of the Death Eaters, and how they would fly around and then instantly appear. But Draco only shook his head and pushed that idea away. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was long dead and gone, along with all his followers. This fact made Draco wonder about who was really behind these attacks. What new threat could there be now? It had only been one year since the final battle, and already, some new git was already trying to become the next best dark wizard. Still, Draco figured that it was just the way of the world; there would always be wars and there would always be people trying to dominate over others. He just wondered what the reasoning was this time.

Once Draco was out of the crowd, the dark mist was only fifty feet away and moving at an alarming rate. Draco advanced, and as he did so, he realized that the mist was making a noise – a shuffling, quiet noise.

Draco raised his wand and whispered, "_Lumos_."

His way was lighted as was the mist. He staggered back a few feet as he realized what the mist was, or rather, what the mist was concealing. Inferi.

But not just any Inferi. These weren't the scraggly, decaying undead; these were the giant, muscled, ferocious undead. This was like nothing Draco had ever seen before, and he had seen a lot. Even though the army was now only twenty feet from Draco, they seemed not to notice him. Actually, they walked right by him, as if they were unseeing.

Draco watched them go past but did not dare to move. There were hundreds of them, and Draco was, well, greatly outnumbered. Still, he knew he would need to act quickly if he were to warn and protect the people at the conference. He knew that if the worst happened, hundreds of innocent bystanders would die, and one of them could be Hermione. Draco would be damned if he failed at his job for today.

While he was in the middle of the crowd of Inferi, Draco joined their ranks and glided through them. He was careful not to touch any, and even more careful not to draw any attention. While he was working his way back to the conference, he still found himself musing over who could be behind this, and if said person was here at this moment. Draco glanced above him at the tall buildings he passed. Anyone could be hiding in one of the rooms, just waiting to be found out.

Draco cursed. He was too far behind. Screaming could be heard ahead of him, and throwing his thoughts aside, Draco rushed to the swarms of people. Up ahead, he saw fire and smoke – presumably the Aurors and Harry doing their jobs – and the screams were getting louder as the muggles realized they had nowhere to go.

Drawing up his fire power, Draco cupped his hands above his head and then brought them back down with a large gust of fire. Pulling out his wand, he began the spell in his head, repeating it over and over to keep the wash of fire moving. The swirling flames engulfed the targets, but since fire was somewhat of an uncontrollable, wild element, some of the muggles got entrapped in the flames as well as the Inferi.

Immediately, Draco ceased his spell and, through the now open pathway, rushed to the middle of the courtyard where the conference had been. Now, instead of calling upon fire, he manipulated water and doused the flames near any bystanders. Draco looked around him to make sure he did not leave any damaged, but then he realized how many had already been killed by the Inferi. Many bodies surrounded him – muggle and Inferi – and anger swelled in Draco. He should have been here. He could have saved many lives.

Turning toward the onslaught of Inferi still attacking, Draco prepared a ball of fire, and with the upturn of his wand, he flung the ball at the Inferi, and upon impact, it exploded and covered the opening they were coming in.

Just as he was about to prepare another one, something struck him in the back, and before he knew it, he was on the ground. He knew it was an Inferi from the way it reeked of dead corpses, and it grappled him with an inhumanly grasp. The creature had its arms wrapped around Draco's neck, and the weight of its body strapped him to the ground, unmoving. Draco could feel his breath leaving his body, but he was unable to get any more.

Suddenly, without notice, the surge against his throat stopped and the body on top of him fell limp. Now free of his strangler, Draco rolled over to his back, flinging the creature off as well. When Draco rolled over, it was then that he saw his savior: Hermione.

He would have to remember to thank her later.

She was staring at him wide-eyed, her wand up and trembling.

Draco gave her a curt nod before he nimbly rose to his feet, preparing to continue the fight.

There were probably one hundred Inferi left, and the muggles were now outnumbered and standing in a huddled circle on the outskirts of the plaza. The Inferi advanced upon them, and Draco knew he would have to act quickly. As Draco was preparing, Harry and the other Aurors – or what was remaining of them – joined Draco by his side.

Harry whispered, "Can you handle the front half? Rorik, Shalde, and I will handle the rest."

Draco gave one nod to signify that he could just that. Raising his wand, Draco uttered the spell, and a gush of fire shot out of the tip of his wand, streaming toward the Inferi. The Inferi were out in minutes; Draco easily handled his half, and Harry and the others handled theirs, too.

With the Inferi gone, the courtyard seemed to be dead silent; everything was still. The remaining muggles – maybe fifty of them – began mumbling amongst themselves. They shot glances at the wizards, and those glances turned into glares. Draco sensed that this was bad. Very, very bad.

Hermione joined Draco and the others from her spot behind the stage she had, only moments ago, given a speech upon. After she had saved Draco, Harry had ordered her to stay hidden, and she had listened, although it was against her better judgment.

When she joined them, she said quietly, "They look… angry."

And she was right. The muggles had all raised their voices and were now talking loudly amongst themselves.

Draco scoffed. "Well, wouldn't you be a little peeved if over a hundred of your people were slaughtered by the undead?"

"Of course," said Hermione easily. "But not at the people who saved my life."

"Touché," mumbled Draco, glancing downward.

Suddenly, the group of survivors migrated toward the wizards. One man stepped forward and said, "You should leave at once. You have outstayed your welcome."

"We just saved all your lives," Draco responded instantly.

The man pointed at his fallen comrades. "Tell that to them. You put us all in danger, and because of you, there has been a massacre today."

"We did not kill anyone. You cannot blame us," added Hermione.

"_Your kind_," the man spat, "brought these things here today. If it were not for you, they would not have come."

"Yes, they would have," continued Hermione. "They would have attacked you no –"

"If your kind did not exist, then _they_ would not exist," finished the man. "Leave. Now."

This time, Draco figured they should listen. As he turned, he said, "Come on. If they want to die without our help, so be it."

The others followed him as well, but Hermione was the last to leave. She gave the man one last look before she turned and followed. He was smirking at her, his eyes having a black gleam to them. She didn't like that muggle. Not one bit.

Xxx

Two days later, there was another press conference; this time by the muggles. Unbeknownst to all who were there, three wizards were in the audience. Draco, Hermione, and Harry had heard about said conference and decided to attend. Note their surprise when the speaker turned out to be none other than the man who they had spoken to after the last Inferi attack; the one who spurned all wizards and did not attempt to hide his contempt. His name, they learned, was Jason Slade.

When he stepped up to the microphone, his shoulders were squared and his head was held high. Then, he began his speech.

"_My people, my fellow, ahem, muggles (laughs). These wizards have you fooled if you believe they have everyone's best interest at heart. You are not at risk; you are only at risk because they have put you at risk. It is their way of life that has placed fear over your heads; that keeps you awake at night. These wizards are freaks – users of dark magic, anomalies of nature – that shouldn't even exist. They are menaces that should keep to their own worlds and have no part in ours!_

"_The recent massacre only occurred because these freaks exist! It is through their magic that these creatures are even alive. In order to fully cure ourselves of these disasters, the wizards must be destroyed! Only then will we be truly safe. Only then will we have our world back, and our peace restored._

"_It is in this way that I ask you all to band together, and stand against these monsters. Do it for your families, your friends, and your fellow humans. Do not let these wizards fool you with their unity speeches. They may claim to help, but really, they seek to destroy and overcome our lands. They must be stopped. _

"_I ask you. Do you want peace? freedom? harmony? safety? Then stand together against these fiends; disable their plots and stand firm. Only then can you have the world you dream of. Thank you, my friends. May God protect us all!"_

At the end of his speech, people cheered loudly, and that was when the three wizards knew that trouble would be up ahead. But not only from the Inferi and their unknown master, but from the very people they sought to protect.

They needed to find out who Jason Slade was and stop him before he convinced and turned the muggles against them all.

Xxx

Draco paced Harry's office at the Ministry. His hands were clasped behind his back, head bent over, muttering curses under his breath. In his head, he was thinking of all the ways he could destroy this _Jason Slade -_ just thinking the name made him renew his pacing with rekindled fury and passion.

Harry and Hermione just watched him in silence; Harry was slumped over in his chair, head resting on hand, looking very disinterested; Hermione was sitting erect in her seat, eyes wide and watchful, looking worried.

Suddenly, Draco ceased in his pacing and faced the others. "That's it!" he exclaimed. "Guns! We'll hire a sharpshooter, and no one will suspect us – the wizards – with such a muggle contraption! They'll think it was one of their own!"

Hermione and Harry exchanged glances, but it was Harry who spoke, "We can't kill him, Draco."

Said wizard slumped his shoulders. "Yeah, I suppose you're right." He looked like he was about to give in when another idea popped into his head and his eyes lit up once more. "We'll throw him in Azkaban! No one will ever find him, and it will be like he just disappeared!"

Sighing, Hermione said, "_We_ can't do anything to him, Draco. Everything will seem too fishy. Besides, we don't even know if he is up to something. Maybe he does just hate us; maybe he doesn't have any other hidden plot."

"Are you saying we do nothing, and allow this man to continue slandering our name, turning muggles against us, and attempting to destroy us all?"

By the time he had finished, Draco was mere inches from where Hermione sat. She almost shriveled under his imposing stance – almost.

"No," she said immediately. "I say we band together with the muggles."

"The ones who hate us, you mean?"

"No," she sighed airily. "The ones who are still on our side and fighting for us." Noting the puzzled look on Draco's face, she continued, "Have you not been watching the news? Not only is Jason Slade giving speeches worldwide, but so are other muggles, ones who believe they need our help and that we should live together. Not everyone hates us."

Everything fell into place for Draco. "We band together with the muggles and conduct a kidnapping with them!"

Harry laughed; Hermione gave both of the boys a look before she said, "Actually, yes."

"What?" both Draco and Harry said simultaneously.

"If we do anything by ourselves, it may turn _everyone_ against us. But, if it were in cohorts with other muggles, it would be like we were banding together to take down a threat to society."

"Then," continued Draco, "it's not only our heads on the plate, but fellow muggles as well."

"Exactly," responded Hermione.

"This is all fine and dandy," said Harry, rising, "but who exactly are we going to go into cohorts with?"

Hermione blushed a deep hue of red.

Harry rolled his eyes and chuckled softly. "What's his name?"

"Her, actually. And it's Lucy Williams"

"Wait," mentioned Draco. "You already contacted someone? _By yourself_?"

Harry clamped Draco on the shoulder. "You have a lot to learn, mate. Hermione is always one step ahead."

Seeing the glare she was being given, Hermione stood up as well, twiddling her thumbs. "I-I've been watching the news constantly. She is probably our largest supporter, and people really seem to like her. I sent her a letter, and she quickly responded; she seemed very happy to have been contacted. We have a meeting this Thursday."

"You mean as in tomorrow?" Draco said harshly.

Hermione nodded.

"Well that pretty much gives us no time to plan or get anything together," continued Draco icily. "What are we going to tell her?"

Hermione cringed. "Actually, I already have a folder set up and everything planned out. It should go perfectly."

Draco was silent for a moment -- seeming to be lost in his thoughts -- then he burst out into laughter, causing Hermione to jump. "Bloody hell," he said between gusts of laughter. "You really do work for the Ministry after all; bloody lawyer, at that." He paused, pulling himself together. "I take it you don't need me and Potter to do anything else, do you? I suppose _you_ have it all covered."

It took Hermione a moment before she realized Draco was making fun of her. Her look transformed from alarmed into infuriation. "I'll have you know, _Malfoy_, that I don't need you or Harry to do anything! Just be here Thursday at noon, my office."

Then she left the room.

Then she came back two seconds later. She pointed a finger in Draco's face. "And don't you be a git to Ms. Williams! We can't afford to let you mess anything up!"

Before he could retort, she was already out of the room.

Harry looked at Draco apologetically. "You really do have a lot to learn, mate."

Then he left the room too, leaving Draco all alone.

That is, until Ron Weasley walked in.


	14. Apologies

_**Smother Me **_

_By Eriks_leadinglady_

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_A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews! And I know I said this chapter would have some DH, but, well… YOU GOT IT!!! Muahahaha… kinda… ;)_

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**Chapter 13: Apologies**

When Ron came in the room, Draco nearly laughed. He hadn't seen the git in weeks – probably hiding out from pure humiliation; after all, his supposed girlfriend had been hanging around with the Slytherin Prince. Ron – red-faced – looked like he would hex Draco at any given moment. Still, Draco remained nonchalant with hands stuffed in pockets and raised his eyebrows at Weasley.

"You… you…" began Ron.

Draco remained unmoved, his stone features telling Ron to continue.

"You stole my girlfriend!" Ron at last shouted.

Now, Draco couldn't help but let a chuckle escape his lips. "Leave it to you, Weasley, to only think about something like that while we're in the middle of a crisis."

Ron tensed, but ignored the jib. "Well, what have you to say for yourself?"

Sighing, Draco knew nothing he said would get the Weasel off the subject. "I didn't _steal_ anything."

"I haven't talked to Hermione in weeks! Instead, she's been hanging around you all the bloody time. If that isn't barmy, then I don't know what is! Just release whatever curse you have on her, and I'll be on my way."

"_Curse? _You think I've _cursed_ Hermione into going out with me?" Draco guffawed. "Wow, Weasley, you really are losing your marbles. Since when have I ever needed a curse in order to get a girl?"

At Draco's smirk, Ron pulled out his wand and pointed it at him. "So you did steal her then!"

Draco smacked the wand out of his face. "No, actually, I didn't. I think she left you of her own accord. Maybe she finally realized that there's just an empty space between your two Weasley ears. Uninspired, I think she was."

"Why you..." started Ron. He lunged at Draco as if he were about to punch him square in the eye, but Draco was quicker. Seeing the punch coming, Draco dodged out of the way, ducking under the poorly thrown fist, and instead punched Ron right in the gut. Ron doubled over from the blow, and was about to try his luck at hitting Draco again, but before he could, Draco's fist hit him right in the nose.

Suddenly gushing blood, Ron stumbled back into the doorway.

"You're a bloody git, you know that?" mumbled Ron.

Draco, however, was unapologetic. "Maybe next time, don't accuse me of stealing Granger away from you. I can't be blamed for your insufficiencies."

"Think she's gone for good then?"

Shrugging, Draco responded, "I can't speak for her. Ask her yourself."

"She's been avoiding me."

"I haven't been avoiding you, Ron," another voice said suddenly from behind Ron.

He spun around to face none other than Hermione herself.

Upon seeing his startled look, Hermione offered a small wave and a polite, "Hi."

"H-Hey, Hermione. H-How've you been?"

She smiled softly, and then fixed his nose for him. He mumbled a quick, "Thanks," and then looked at her expectedly.

She quickly became somber. "Ron, I think it's time I've explained. I… I don't see _us_ anymore. I see me, and I see you, just not... together. I've thought about this for a long time, and I just needed these past few weeks to really realize it."

"So, that's it then? You're breaking up with me?"

Hermione lifted her shoulders. "Sorry."

Slowly, Ron nodded his head. "Still friends?"

"Of course! You've been one of my best friends for eight years; I would hate for that to change."

Ron pursed his lips, but tried to smile.

Even if Hermione didn't realize it, Draco – who, by now, felt very out of place being here – could tell Ron was having a harder time with this than he was leading on. Still, seeing the two of them officially end it felt slightly… vindictive, on his part. But for the life of him, he couldn't place why.

Hermione entered the room then, and pretended to look at a book on Harry's bookshelf. Seeing that she wasn't leaving, Ron dawdled idly in the doorway.

"So…" he began. "I'll just be going then?"

Hermione flashed him a brilliant smile; probably not what he needs to see right now, thought Draco.

"I'll talk to you soon, Ron."

Then he waved and was on his way, looking downright sodden.

Hermione continued looking at the bookshelf for another minute or two, and Draco seriously wondered what she was playing at.

Then, without notice, she was a foot away from him, peering at him strangely. "First of all, before I say anything else, I must strongly reprimand you for attacking Ron. It wasn't even close to a fair fight, and you know it."

"But he –"

"Ah, I don't care if he made the first move. You should know better."

Draco mumbled something unintelligible.

"And now I want to apologize for storming out on you earlier. You often say things without intended harm, and _I_ should know better. In times like these, we need to all stick together, and we can't afford to turn on each other like I did earlier."

She paused, as if waiting for him to say something as well. He ran a hand through his hair, opening his mouth, and then promptly closing it. Damn. This was hard.

"I, uh," he began unsurely. "I didn't…mean to… make you angry earlier. I was only… kidding. S-Sorry?" he finished, eyebrows raised, uncertain if what he had given would be acceptable or not.

But Hermione only smiled at him. "Apology accepted."

Draco let out a sigh a relief. "That was right awful, and I don't know if I'll be able to suffer through anything like that again."

"I wouldn't expect you to."

Draco stared at her then and noticed that she was staring at him, too. She had a peculiar look in her eyes, and she took a hesitant step toward him. He didn't know what was happening. He felt…

No. Absolutely not. Impossible!

Abruptly, he turned and walked a few feet away.

"Draco…" Hermione said softly.

Draco's head was on fire. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening, could it?

He felt her approach him from behind, and she placed a hand on his arm. It was warm – and would have warmed him, too – had he not immediately stepped away from her touch.

With his back still to her, Draco was glad he could not see her face.

"I-I'm sorry," she said.

Draco turned his head and replied, "Enough apologies for today. See you tomorrow, Granger."

He quickly left the room, but couldn't seem to get away fast enough for his tastes.

And Hermione… well, she felt utterly rejected.

0o0o0oo0o0o0o0o0o0o

Draco was back at Malfoy Manor in an instant. His head was still in a buzz, and he wasn't even sure if what he had just experienced was a dream or reality. After all, it was Hermione Granger, and why would she ever want _him_ – an arrogant, selfish, double agent Slytherin?

She wouldn't. This he was sure of.

And yet… why would she touch him like that? And the way she had said his name! _Draco_ – it was a whispered caress; a soft plea to stand by her side. But if this was all true – and Draco wasn't imaging things – then the way he had responded was a rejection. He _rejected_ Hermione.

That was it. This certainly was _not _possible.

But...

_Okay,_ his mind reasoned, _let's think about this. If it all happened – if Hermione really does want you in that way – then who's to say no? Do you want her, too? Was your rejection a mistake or a correct impulse to move away?_

As he thought these things, Draco moved into the anteroom and plopped down on the armchair. He bent over – face in hands – thinking intensely. If anyone had walked by, they would have thought he was having a mental breakdown. And maybe he was.

_Hermione_, he thought. _Hermione_.

He mulled it over some more, swishing each new sensation, each new feeling throughout his mind, testing for a reaction.

_Well, I certainly feel something_.

_No, you fool!_ exclaimed his voice of reason. _Think about this. Hermione Granger, really? Frizzy-haired, know-it-all, mudblood Granger? You'd be better off with Pansy; hell, even that little Weasley girl would be better suited for your tastes. But Granger? No way. Push it all to the side, push it into the deepest corners of your heart, and leave it there! Let any feelings you have rot away._

But, as Draco sat there, that thought pained him. He didn't like the idea of just pushing Granger off to the side like some unwanted, rotten apple. She wasn't rotten; she was a very bright witch. She was smart, quick-thinking, agile – much like himself. And yet they were so different! Although her blood may be filthy, her mind was pure; she had a good heart. And he... well, he was black and tainted.

He opened his eyes, gazing at his left wrist. The Dark Mark remained there. That was proof of his treachery.

_What? _His mind interrupted. _You think she's too good for _you_? A Malfoy? Ha! _

But she was better than him in many ways – better in the sense of making the right choices and following a guided, straight path. His was nothing of the sort. Too many battles had been fought – and many lost. A former statue of brilliance, he was now crumbling, and no one could hold him together.

He had it resolved, then. He wouldn't taint anyone else with his black heart, least of all Hermione Granger.

0o0o00o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The next day, Draco arrived at Hermione's office as planned. Luckily, Harry was already there so there were no awkward moments between Draco and Hermione; not that he would have allowed any, anyway.

Still, there was a blanket of tenseness hovering in the air, and Draco yearned to release it.

It was just nearing noon – the time when the muggle reporter was scheduled to arrive – and Draco let out a loud sound of annoyance.

Hermione didn't even bother to look at him, but Harry said, "It's not even twelve yet, Draco, relax."

"I just don't want this muggle to mess anything up; she's our one chance."

This time, Hermione responded. "She will be perfect; I think we should be worried about _you_ muffing things up for everyone, as you're known to do."

Draco smiled at her response – she was looking at him now – and she was completely baffled by his look of compliance.

"Always so spot on, Hermione. How did you know I was already planning on hexing the woman if she said or did one thing out of line?" he asked, a little playfully, a little sarcastically - done as only a Malfoy could do.

Hermione, however, effortlessly kept up. "Easily: that kind of reaction is always the first out of a Malfoy."

Draco gave a nod of his head in agreement. "Sometimes, we do tend to get a little hot headed -- and do things we later regret – when caught off guard."

It was Hermione who nodded her head this time. "I see."

"Do you?"

But then their cryptic conversation ended when said muggle walked in: Ms. Lucy Williams.

Both Hermione and Draco stood up to greet her, but Harry remained seated, staring at his two friends with a very puzzled look on his face. Just what was he missing?

It was Hermione who stepped forward and shook the woman's hand first.

"Ms. Williams, I'm Hermione Granger. I'm so glad you decided to come today."

Draco nodded to Knightley – who had brought the muggle here – and said man closed the door and no doubt stood guard outside. Then Draco took in the muggle who would supposedly help them. She was tall, slender – very svelte. He thought she was pretty enough – long brown hair, green, wide-set eyes, but a small forehead. It made her look large in the chin and cheekbones. Still, she was arguably amiable to look at.

Ms. Williams smiled in response to her formal greeting. "Please, call me Lucy. And it was my pleasure to come today; the way you all are being attacked is completely uncalled for."

Her eyes then shifted around the room, noting the two other wizards – by now, Harry had gotten over his puzzlement and was standing on his feet.

"And who might these two wizards be?"

Hermione introduced them. "This is Harry Potter –" he offered a polite, "Hi", "- and this is Draco Malfoy." A nod.

Lucy smiled brightly at them. "It's a pleasure, really." Her eyes lingered longer on Draco, who, of course, couldn't help but notice her interest.

"Please, sit," he offered kindly.

Again, she smiled at him.

_Her face does liven up when she smiles…_ he thought, before he, too, took a seat.

Hermione and Harry sat on one side of the table while Lucy and Draco were on the other; the conference table had been charmed out of Hermione's previous desk.

"First things first," began Hermione, pulling out her papers. "How many people would you say are on our side? And how many work for you?"

Lucy thought for a moment. "I can't say – precisely -- how many people in total are on your side. In England, though, I'd say it's split right down the middle. And as for people who work for me, I'd say about twenty. However, I do have colleagues and friends who would also be more than willing to help."

"A number, Ms. Williams," said Draco, looking at her hard.

"Of colleagues and such?"

He nodded.

Doing the calculations in her mind, she declared, "There are seven others like myself – people fighting for you – and then there are the people under them, as well, so, including me, I'd say we have a good 150 people to work with."

Draco looked at Hermione. "Well, it's doable."

"What do you have in mind?" asked Harry.

"We have a faux press conference."

"A faux press conference," said Hermione skeptically.

"Well, not exactly faux – we need cameras and everything – which is where your reporter friends come in. And all the people in the audience will be those who work for all of you. Of course, we will also need some reporters that are either neutral or against us there, as well."

"And then what?"

"Then, we get the muggles to act up against Slade and start a riot. We will have set up hidden barriers so we're sure he can't escape. Then, the muggles kidnap him. We will have no role in it – supposedly – so we can't be blamed. But the muggles, after they've kidnapped him, will bring him to us."

"Ingenious!" cried Lucy. "Simply ingenious! Tell, me what is your role in this posse?"

Draco smirked. "The Master Mastermind."

Hermione, however, rolled her eyes. "We're not really a posse, Lucy. Just people who are forced to work together under these circumstances."

"Except her and Potter, over there. They're best friends," added Draco.

Lucy looked between the three wizards. "So what are you?"

"I'm the former bad guy."

"Bad… guy? I don't understand."

Draco leaned back in his chair. "I've had my fair share of duels with Potter. And Granger over there punched me in the face once."

"Oh. So you guys just didn't get along, then? You're not really a bad guy –"

"No, I was. You see, I used to work for a certain dark wizard, and these two were against him ruling the world." Draco pulled up his sleeve and revealed the Dark Mark.

"You still have it…" Hermione whispered.

"What _is_ that?" wondered Lucy, who peered curiously at Draco's forearm.

"_His_ mark. My former Master and the former supreme dark wizard, Lord Voldemort."

Lucy nodded her head, but Draco knew she did not fully understand; it was not in her capacity. But he noticed both Hermione and Harry staring at his arm, appearing to be reminiscing. Rolling his eyes, he shoved his sleeve back down, covering the mark and the past; he dared not to relive those days under _His_ power.

The mood in the room seemed to have changed immensely. Where once there was optimism and positivity now stood sadness and melancholy.

Draco preferred not to live in the past; it was over and done with. It was the future they had to deal with now. Looking around the table, he realized that these people would be the ones saving the world, and he found it slightly ironic that he was among them.


End file.
